The Tears of Nero (The Halo Group Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter 12

Seneca didn’t give the group time to speak or react.  The moment he was certain they saw him, he fled into the jungle, running fast enough to stay ahead but not fast enough to lose them.  So far the masked figure was their only link to Nero.  Having no other choice if they hoped to find any answers, they followed the harlequin into the thicket. 

They had been walking for hours and hiking through treacherous terrain.  Their bodies ached from all the exertion, but they pushed onward, doing their best to keep up with the masked man.  They moved slowly, gasping for air, needing to stop every hundred yards or so and catch their breath.  Periodically, Seneca slowed his pace if he was too far ahead.  His goal wasn’t to lose them.  He could have done that numerous times if he wanted.  

Eventually, the physical strain became too much, and the group stopped to rest.  Seneca stopped a hundred yards ahead and studied them like bacteria under a microscope.  He didn’t approach them nor did he speak.  He simply stared through the lifeless slits of his mask and waited while they caught their breath. 

“I don’t know about anybody else,” Sadie said.  “But I’m a little confused.  Why are we following this guy?  Isn’t he the same one that led us down to the lion exhibit at the dinner party?”

“I get the feeling that Seneca may not be who we think he is,” Edward said. 

“You mean he’s not a member of this weird little club?” Sadie replied.

“He’s a member,” Edward admitted.  “But I’m not sure where his loyalty lies.  Think of his name.  I’m sure that’s significant.  It certainly figures in to the story of history's Nero.  Seneca tried to keep Nero on the straight and narrow.  He was a mentor to the emperor before Nero entered his persecution phase.  Perhaps there is a very good reason our friend here chose that name.”

“I’m not sure he’s one of the good guys,” Henry said, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.  “He pulled a knife on me in that house on Archibald Street.”

“But he didn't cut you,” Edward reminded him.  “We need to see what he wants us to see.  We always have the option to go back to the tent.”

After another minute of rest, the group headed out again, following Seneca through thickets, large nets of intertwined ivy, over fallen trees, and into a clearing.  Where he went after that was anyone’s guess.  The jungle swallowed Seneca whole.  Yet, they didn’t have to wonder if this was where he wanted them to be. 

The Quonset hut looked as out of place here in the jungle as the circus tent did.  Masked figures in cult attire stood guard with semi-automatic weapons outside the door.  

“What is this place?” Edward asked.  “A military barracks?”

“Maybe,” Franklin admitted.  “But I’ve never seen a Marine wear a mask with painted tears before.  Call me crazy, but I think we can rule Uncle Sam out of this one.”

“Ok, so why are we here?” Henry asked. 

“Maybe he wants to give us some answers,” Kelly theorized.  “Or at least give us a fighting chance at survival.”

“Someone brought us here by plane or boat,” Edward said.  “Maybe we can get some information inside.  Or some weapons we can use to defend ourselves.”

“O.K., sure,” Franklin said, smirking.  “Let’s walk up to the nice men with guns and ask them for directions off this rock….or if we can borrow a couple of AK-47’s.  Sounds like a plan!”

“Do you always have to be so negative?” Sadie asked.

“I don’t have to be,” Franklin said, smirking.  “It’s a gift.”

“One of us needs to get inside that building and see what we can learn,” Henry said.  “I would volunteer but I’m too old and slow.  They would catch me for sure.”

“I’ve got a bad ankle,” Kelly said.  “It’s a wonder I haven’t twisted it already.  I’m not a logical choice for this either.”

“Franklin’s too fat,” Sadie said.  “He’d sound like a water buffalo trying to sneak up on them.”

Franklin glared at the red-headed pixie.  “Send Sadie,” he said.  “She’s so obnoxious the two guards would shoot themselves to make the sound of her voice go away.”

“I’ll go,” Sadie said coolly.  “I was going to volunteer anyway.” 

“No,” Edward interrupted.  “Let me.  If fighting is necessary, I’m stronger than you are.  I’d stand a better chance of survival.”

“I think he’s right,” Kelly said.  

“We could both go,” Sadie said.  “Strength in numbers and all that.” 

“Too risky,” Edward reminded her.  “I think it’s best I go by myself.”

“How do you plan to get inside, Houdini?” Franklin asked. 

Edward looked around for a moment, searching for a way in that wouldn’t involve direct confrontation with the Storm Troopers.  He smiled as he saw something on the other side of the forest.  “Looks like Seneca thought of everything,” he said, pointing to the bundle of clothing that hung from a low hanging branch.

It only took him a couple of minutes to circumnavigate the Quonset Hut and reach the robe and mask Seneca had left behind.  Seneca had even provided him a magnetic card that would open the door the two thugs were guarding.  What he hadn't left him, however, was any means of defense.  Edward would be walking right into the lions' den without any way to protect himself if the situation demanded it, but he had no other choice. 

“Here goes nothing,” he said under his breath as he emerged from the jungle.  The two guards tensed and pointed their weapons at him.  They relaxed when they saw the familiar mask and robe, marking him as one of their brethren.  Edward nodded to both men, strolled up to the door, and used the key to unlock it, trying to remain cool on the outside while secretly sweating bullets underneath his robe.  Thankfully, the locking mechanism beeped and released, allowing him access to the Quonset hut.  He quickly stepped inside before something could happen to give away his true identity.  He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but what he saw made him gasp in surprise. 

The Four Horsemen, as he had come to think of them, had discarded their robes in favor of white scrubs.  Not straying too far out of character, the scientists’ lab coats were color-coded as well.  Pestilence was busy studying something under a microscope.  Famine and War were staring at computers and typing feverishly.  Death, meanwhile, was twirling a black feather between his thumb and forefinger and gazing intently at a topographical map of the island.

After what he and the others had seen in the basement of that house on Archibald Street, Edward had imagined blood sacrifices or dark rituals might be the sort of thing this group was into, not science done in the confines of a makeshift laboratory.  And yet here they were performing tests, calculations, and experiments without the first pagan idol in sight. 

None of them took notice of Edward because they were too preoccupied with their tasks.  A thick section of tinted glass separated the laboratory from the barracks.  The dark glass helped shield his movements as he observed them. 

He looked around carefully, searching for weapons, food, anything that might be helpful.  But there was nothing.  Just the scientists on one side of the glass and two parallel rows of cots and foot lockers on his side of the glass.  Why had Seneca led him here?  There had to be something in this place that would provide answers. 

He looked at his surroundings, taking care not to draw their attention.  He noticed the map that Death was studying.  A circle had been drawn around a series of caves, and the word “Morningstar” had been written in red beside it.  A cursory glance of the lab showed several test tubes with Morningstar written on them as well.   

Morningstar?  What could that possibly refer to?

After a few more minutes of fruitless snooping, Edward was about to give up and head back out when he heard a commotion behind the glass.  The temperature inside the building dropped by twenty degrees, and there was a noticeable shift in atmospheric pressure.  Although it was a strange thought to have, Edward couldn't help feeling like he was stuck inside a storm shelter in the midst of a tornado.  The air had that heaviness about it, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up.  The laboratory was inexplicably darker than it had been moments before.  Yet none of the lights had been turned off.  Rather, they seemed more muted now, as if something had sucked the brightness out of the room.  The lights flickered erratically, and the glass partition rattled in its frame.  The horsemen chattered to each other fearfully, searching for the source of the disturbance as some of the equipment on their tablets vibrated, skittered, and fell, shattering into thousands of shards of broken glass.   

A bare bulb dangled from a cord in the center of the room.  An unseen wind blew it back and forth, forming shadows where none should have been.  These shadows moved and swayed inside the laboratory, and the horsemen fell to their knees as the darkness on the walls came to life.  Fascinated, Edward crept closer, watching as patches of shadow moved with a rhythm and sentience that defied modern physics.  What kinds of experiments were they conducting here?

Edward muttered prayers underneath his breath and tried to shake off the feeling of wrongness that clung to everything like a thin, grimy film.  His instincts told him to turn tail and run as far from this place as possible, but he knew that there were answers here.  Hoping to save himself, Edward crouched down at the foot of one of the cots and peered over its wire frame.  The scientists were all huddled together on their side of the glass, babbling to themselves in fear as the storm built inside their small laboratory.  One of the scientists clutched the vials of Morningstar fiercely to his chest as the winds hurled beakers and test tubes about with wanton abandon.  There was no telling what the destruction of those vials with the peculiar name might unleash.

Gradually, the winds subsided, and the scientists visibly relaxed a little.  Their reprieve was short-lived.  Without warning, the shadows merged, melded, and reshaped themselves into something else….something much, much bigger that filled the room.  Something with wings. 

The horsemen wept and trembled before the shadowy creature that towered over them, its dark plumage spreading across the room like a thunderhead.  Black feathers fell like drops of oily rain.  Edward crept a little closer to the lab and pressed his ear to the glass while the horsemen begged for their lives.

The winged shadow appeared to be listening and waiting for something.  Death got to his feet and offered the vials of Morningstar, presenting them like a peasant with a gift for his king.  Edward could hear the egghead talking to the shadow and motioning to the vials, but couldn’t understand much of what was being said.  Whatever Death said, however, must have pleased the shadow because it nodded in satisfaction several times.  When Death was finished speaking, he knelt before the shadow again, unwilling to look at the creature any longer than he had to.  The winged form studied all of them for a moment with an expression that might have been indifference then exploded into nothingness.  The shadows raced back to their rightful places on the walls.  The lights flickered once before returning to their previous brilliance.

For a moment, Edward could do nothing more than tremble in fear and take deep gulps of heavily-filtered air.  He had no explanation for what he saw, yet somewhere deep in the folds of his brain he knew the identity of the creature he had witnessed.  During his years in the ministry, he had seen lots of things that defied rational explanation.  The Bible was filled with them, and he believed them all whole-heartedly.  However, it was one thing to believe in all of the creatures mentioned in the Good Book and still another to see one up close and personal. 

Eventually the horsemen regained their composure, got to their feet once more, and set about the business of restoring order to their lab.  Trembling and filled with a nervous panic, Edward took a couple of deep breaths and headed back to the exit.  He had never been so glad to be back in the sweltering heat and the sticky confines of the jungle.  This time the soldiers at the door didn’t give him a passing glance.  As strange as it sounded, they seemed oblivious to all that had just taken place.  How was such a thing possible?  He studied them for a second and was unnerved at how calm they were.  Edward knew he couldn't match their steely demeanor and was sure his voice would have quivered a bit if they forced him to speak.  Unwilling to press his luck any more, he wasted no time getting back to the members of the group and trying to explain what he had seen.

“Are you sure that's what it was?” Henry asked.  “You're certain?”

“I'd bet my life on it,” Edward gasped.  “That thing was huge and gave off this feeling of hopelessness that just seemed to seep into the bones.  Everything about that place felt wrong to me.” 

“Just thinking about it gives me the creeps,” Sadie said. 

“I think I know what it is,” Edward said.   

“Don’t say the word,” Franklin said.  “Saying it will make it a little too real for me.  You've described it well enough, and I think we're all capable of putting the pieces together here.  Besides, when I think of that word I think of Clarence from ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’  I don’t want to ruin that image.  That‘s my favorite Christmas movie.”

“It had wings,” Edward said.  “They were made of shadow and wavered like gasoline fumes on hot blacktop.  But they were wings.  I’m sure of it.”

“Can we move past that part of the story for now?” Franklin asked.  He was as unsettled by Edward’s account of the shadow-creature as Sadie, but he wasn’t going to admit it.