The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 21

When they woke up on their beds of damp sand, no one was dead.  No one was missing.  They had all survived without a scratch.  But Nero had been there.  

“Dear Lord,” Henry said as he saw the mockery of Kelly that had been erected in her memory.  His exclamation was all it took to get everyone else to their feet.

The four of them had slept far enough apart to allow Nero access to the center of their circle.  As a joke, Nero had created a recreation of Kelly’s demise.  A taxidermied monkey had been dressed in women’s clothing, painted with makeup, outfitted with a fortune teller’s turban and staked just as Kelly herself had been. 

“He’s mocking us,” Sadie said. 

“He could have killed us last night if he wanted to,” Edward said. 

“I think there’s a note in the monkey’s mouth,” Henry said. 

“You see I’m not joking about all of this,” Edward read.  “I’m very serious about what I want you to do.  There is no room for bargaining and no room for compromise.  As you can see, your little parlor tricks won’t keep me at bay either.  Any of you I wish to kill, I will do so with glee.  The jungle is my eyes and ears.  Nothing you do or say escapes me.  The clock is ticking.  Find the angel.”

“The only thing that note confirms for me is that our time is running out,” Sadie said.  “If we think there’s a boat on this island, we better start looking.”

“No question about it,” Edward said.  “Let’s go.” 

This time the group went in a direction opposite the way they’d come.  They retraced their steps to the place where they’d first been dumped out on the beach.  From there, they followed the coastline.  Nobody bothered consulting the GPS unit or the crudely scrawled map.  They all knew the score now and were simply concerned with escape. 

Every now and then they heard the faint sounds of a violin which wasn’t surprising.  What did surprise them, however, was the way everything in the jungle seemed to be keeping an eye on them.  Although it was likely the result of exhaustion and paranoia, the feeling of being scrutinized was undeniable and unnerving.  Birds, perched high in the boughs of palm trees, seemed to study them with malevolent intent.  Monkeys, once chattering and erratic, went silent and still as the group passed by.  Insects stopped buzzing at their approach, and even the wind itself seemed to sigh with each passing minute.  

“Something occurred to me,” Franklin said, wiping the sweat from his brow.  “If we’re being watched, Nero will know if we’re about to get close to his boat.  He won’t let us leave without a fight.”

“So it’s a bad idea to find Lindell’s boat,” Sadie said.  “But it’s also necessary.”

“It’s a chance we have to take,” Edward said.  “We know what waits for us if we don’t.  At least this way, there’s a possibility we might get off this island alive.”

The trudged through the jungle as if their feet were encased in concrete.  The environment was unforgiving, and they weren’t accustomed to this type of exertion.  Thorns clawed at their faces.  Gnats swarmed around their heads.  The sun beat down on their backs. 

They knew they were on the right track when they reached strands of barbwire that had been stretched across a break in the jungle thicket.  The clearing was noticeable and wide enough for something the size of an all-terrain vehicle to navigate. 

“I wonder if this is Nero’s private driveway,” Henry said.  “If so, he really needs to put up a sign number or something so we know we’re at the right place.  Maybe even a welcome mat.”

“Let’s go say hello,” Edward said.

One by one, they threaded their way between the vicious strands of wire, taking care not to let the barbs prick their skin.  Although none of them said it aloud, it wouldn’t have surprised anyone if Nero had coated the wire in some exotic neurotoxin that would cause instant paralysis. 

As they walked the road, they saw Franklin’s tattoo carved into the trunks of trees.  “It confirms my story, doesn’t it?” Franklin said.

“Yes, it does,” Sadie admitted.  “It also confirms that you lied to us from the start.”

Franklin scowled but didn’t respond.  Like everyone else, he was too tired for another argument. 

They had been walking for a while when Edward finally stopped and pointed to something in the distance.  There was a building of some sort, half-obscured by the sail-like fronds of the island trees.  But that wasn’t to blame for the wild look of panic in his eyes.  A line of tigers blocked the road up ahead, staring at them with an alien look that made the temperature drop twenty degrees. 

“This isn’t good,” Henry said.  “Nobody make any sudden moves.”

The tigers were gorgeous, powerful creatures.  But that was something you might think about while viewing them from the other side of a zoo fence.  In this instance, they were a very real, very imminent threat. 

“I count twelve of them,” Sadie said.  “They outnumber us three to one.”

“They aren’t moving toward us,” Edward said.  “I’m not so sure they’re going to attack.  I think they’ve been placed there to keep us from going any further.”

“I have to say it’s working,” Franklin said.

Abruptly, the tigers roared at them in unison but remained where they were.  

“Everyone start backing up,” Edward said.  “And do it slowly.  We don‘t know what will set them off.”

The tigers made no attempt to move and gave no indication that they were there for any reason other than to deter the group from going any further.  Still the cats never took their eyes off of the four adventurers.  Whoever had trained them had done a wonderful job.  The tigers did just as they had been instructed.   

Once they were out of sight of the tigers, everyone started running.  They stopped after a few hundred feet and listened for the sounds of pursuit.  But the tigers weren’t giving chase.

“Maybe we should stick to the coastline and try to find where Lindell’s boat is docked.” Franklin theorized.  “I‘m not really interested in seeing company headquarters anyway.”

“Oh, come on,” Sadie said.  “That’s like Darth Vader not wanting to hang out inside the Death Star.”

“Can it, Red,” Franklin said.  “Let’s look for the boat.” 

No one had a better idea so they kept walking.  

Once they emerged from the jungle and started walking along the coast again, it wasn’t long before they noticed something in the distance.  Waves crept in, overtaking the beach inch by inch, sucking away the sand to reveal broken shells and bits of driftwood.  Nobody could tell exactly what they were seeing at first.  But the waves did their job, and more of the objects beneath the sand were uncovered until at last a familiar formation was revealed.

“The driftwood has been arranged to look like Franklin’s tattoo,” Edward pointed out.

“That particular message may not be meant for us,” Franklin said.  “Maybe it’s a way of communicating with the other members of the group or showing them where the boat is hidden.”

“That seems unlikely,” Henry pointed out.  “The sigil is basically pointing toward the jungle.  If we follow it, we’d be moving away from water, not toward it.”

“What other choice do we have?” Edward said.  “If there’s a chance it could lead us to a way off this island, we have to check it out..”

“I say we check it out,” Sadie chimed in.  “Right now, this is all we have to go on.”

“It doesn’t make sense for us to go this way,” Henry argued.  “If there is a boat on this island, going inland won’t help us find it.”

“Maybe they have a private airstrip or a helipad,” Edward theorized.

“Franklin already told us that Lindell has a serious aversion to flying.”

“We don’t have a lot of options here, Henry,” Edward pointed out. 

“Fine.  Lead the way,” Henry said with a sigh.  “Just remember this moment later so I can say ‘I told you so.’”

Chapter 22

Someone had cleared a path through the jungle.  Branches had been hacked away.  Foliage had been cut back.  Vines, which once snaked across the path in wild serpentine chaos, had been burned and charred so that their hold on the jungle was loosened.  Even the tops of the trees had been pruned to allow sunshine to filter through the canopy and light the way. 

The path looked more like a nature trail meant for hiking than a last mile for death row inmates, cutting into the jungle like a jagged scar.  After trekking through the jungle, traversing falling trees, and swatting mosquitoes the size of B-52’s, they came to a large, wooden door built from plank lumber that was set into the earth.  It looked like a cross between a root cellar and a hideout for mischievous young boys.  A single word was painted on the center plank: 
Abbadon.

“I think it’s safe to say I was right,” Henry said smugly.  “No boat here.  Just another one of Nero’s traps.”

“Looks like it,” Edward sighed. 

“OK, contestants,” Franklin said in his best Alex Trebek.  “Final Jeopardy.  Does anybody have a clue what that means?”

Everyone turned to Sadie. 

She smiled and pushed a lock of red hair out of her face.  “Glad to feel so needed,” she said.  “In The Book of Revelation, Abbadon is the leader of the locust-like beings sent to torment the unbelievers.  He is also known by some as the angel of the bottomless pit.”

Henry nodded.  “We should have known that it would have something to do with angels…and Revelation.”

Franklin laughed.  “Well, what are we waiting for?  Edward, open up that door and let’s unleash something nasty.  I, for one, am ready to see an angel.  Preferably one that will bring us good tidings of great joy.”

Edward sighed and went over to the door.  Henry followed along behind him.  “Do I really even need to say it?”  

“Say what?”

“Do I need to remind you that every time we do what Nero wants it turns out to be a trap of some sort?  Do I need to remind you that this is a very, very bad idea?”

“Nah,” Sadie said.  “Save your breath.  We already know it.”

“You want me to do the honors?” Edward asked.   

“Be my guest,” Franklin said.  “Better you than me.”

Edward grabbed the rope handle to the trap door and pulled upward, not knowing what to expect.  Nothing catastrophic happened.  The hole in the ground looked about six feet deep.  At the bottom of the hole were two chests resembling the other two they had found on the beach.  Dozens of strands of concertina wire stretched back and forth across the hole, making it impossible to simply reach in and grab either box.  Small flags bearing numbers were attached to each wire.  A sheet of parchment with a wet, crimson message had been tacked to the back of the door. 

“This question is for Henry,” the note read.  “Christ once said ‘Suffer the little children unto me.’  Did that give you the right to let a child suffer?  You‘re no better than Kelly.  Bad things happened to a good kid, and that good kid eventually grew up to become a nasty man like his father.  Oh, but I’m not the only sinner around these parts.  Be sure your sins will find you out, Henry.  Just as Abbadon was the keeper of the keys to the bottomless pit, so I am the keeper of the keys to your escape off of this island.  One of the boxes is filled with something deadly.  One is filled with something that might help you live.  It’s up to you to figure out how these wires work.  Pull the right string and live to see another day.  Pull the wrong one and discover the meaning of the word, ‘Morningstar.’  Also, if you‘re thinking about walking away from this, I wouldn‘t advise it.  Opening the trap door was the trigger that armed a dozen landmines hidden in the jungle around you.  Pick the right wire and the mines will deactivate.  Your only clue about the game is this:  Abbadon is the key.  By some accounts, he is a seraphim.”

“Morningstar?  Land mines?” Edward said.  “Wow.  I’d almost rather face the locusts from Revelation.”

“Henry, you really made Nero angry at some point along the way,” Franklin said.  “What did you do?”

Henry shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes.  “I don’t know,” he said sharply.  “But we better figure out the game or I’m toast.”

“Abbadon is the key.  By some accounts he is a seraphim,” Sadie said.  “What could that mean?”

“You tell us,” Henry said.  “You’re the walking desk reference.  What else do you know about this particular angel?  Are there any numbers associated with him?  There are numbers on each of these wires.  I suspect we are supposed to choose the wire that corresponds numerically with Abbadon.”

Sadie thought for a moment, scanning the banks of her photographic memory.  “He’s mentioned in Revelation 9:11 and 20:1.”

Edward bent down and studied the wires and the numbers that had been written on them.  “None of these are numbered 911 or 201,” he said.  “What else you got?”

“Abbadon binds Satan for a thousand years.”

Edward studied the wires more intently.  “None of them are marked 1000 either.”

“Maybe we should add the numbers,” Franklin theorized.

“There’s no 1911, 1201, or 2112,” Edward was quick to retort.  “We’re missing something.”

“Anything else about Abbadon that might come in handy?” Henry asked.

“There are books other than the Bible where Abbadon is mentioned.  Milton, in
Paradise Regained
, uses Abbadon as a synonym for the abyss itself.  In that case Abbadon is a place, not an angel.”

“So how does that help us?” Franklin asked. 

“Maybe Nero is referring to this little pit as our own personal Abbadon,” Edward suggested.  “Remember the two chests marked Patmos and Croatoan.  Those are places too.  However, that doesn’t tell us which number to pick here.”

“Maybe this is the ‘Abbadon’ Nero is referring to,” Henry said, gesturing to the word that had been painted on the outside of the door.  “Maybe this is his name for this little trap.”

“Are there any numbers visible?” Sadie asked.    

Henry studied the painted word and sighed.  “I don’t see any.”

Sadie stared off into the distance, immersed in her own train of thought.  “In Greek, Abbadon is called Appolyon.”

“That doesn’t help,” Franklin said.  “I think we’re looking at this all wrong.”

“What do you suggest?” Henry asked.  “Does Abbadon play a part in The Slaves of Solomon’s beliefs?”

Franklin shook his head.  “Not that I’m aware.  Nero’s clue to us mentioned seraphim.  Sadie, is there anything about seraphim in that noggin of yours?”

Sadie nodded.  “Dionysius the Areopagite was a sixth-century theologian who developed a hierarchy of angels.  Seraphim were the highest and most splendid of the nine orders.  They are the closest in all of heaven to the throne of God.  In the Book of Isaiah, seraphim are said to have six wings.  There are lots of stories about seraphim with additional information but they come from books that aren’t canonical so I‘m not sure that knowledge applies.”

“Canonical?” Franklin asks. 

“It means they aren’t from the accepted group of books forming the Bible,” Henry explained.

“OK,” Edward said.  “We’ve got two additional numbers.  Nine and six.  Nine for the ranking of seraphim in Dionysius’ hierarchy.  Six for the number of wings they have.”

“Maybe the highest are ranked first instead of ninth,” Henry suggested.  “Maybe one’s the number we should be using instead.”

Edward opened the trap door again and examined the numbers on the strands of wire.  “One isn’t a choice.  Six and nine, however, are both choices.”

“Of course they are,” Franklin said, sweating.  “Nero wouldn’t make this easy for us, now would he?”

“Nero said Abbadon was the key,” Sadie said.  “I don’t think the number of wings would matter.  I think rank would be more significant.”

“I agree,” Edward said.  “My vote at this point is nine.  Franklin?”

“We’re dealing with a madman.  Logic may not apply.  Nine sounds ok to me.  The worst that could happen is aerosolized death.  Henry?”

“We can second guess ourselves all day long and still not come up with a better guess.  Let’s pick and pray we made the right decision.  I guess I should be the one to pull the wire since the note was personalized to me.  Besides, I‘m the oldest.  If one of us should die first, it should be me.  I‘ve had a good life.”

“Don’t talk like that, Henry,” Sadie said.  “We may get lucky.”

“I’ve never been lucky,” Henry said with a sad smile.  “Let’s see what happens, shall we?”

The old man didn’t waste any time, kneeling and pulling the wire marked with the number 9.  Immediately, the other wires began to snap as some mechanism buried in the earth stretched them past their limits.  No land mines exploded.  A cloud of Morningstar wasn’t released into the air in a great, dramatic puff of white smoke.  Instead, the lid to the chest on the left slowly opened and Henry breathed a sigh of relief.  His smile faded as he realized what their “reward” was. 

“Go back to the cave!” the note read.  “Don‘t try escaping again!  There are much worse torments than Morningstar!  You will find out what they are if you try to deceive me.”

Realizing that there was no getting around Nero’s will, the group turned to head back to the cave and froze.  Seneca was there, watching them through tear-stained eyes.