“Not all right,” interrupted Spud. “I apologize for disrupting your competitive heroism, but you need to be aware of a realistic possibility you haven’t considered.”
Three sad faces paused to gaze at Spud. We waited.
“If you restore the timeline, it is likely that your sisters and brothers—and mine—will be resurrected.”
Yeah, Spud, we know. That’s the point.
“But some of the people who currently exist in this new timeline, will exist no longer.”
Okay. So? Oh. Aliyah.
“Or will never have been born at all,” intoned Spud.
The sob came from my brother.
* * *
I didn’t join John and Aliyah in their moonlit foray outdoors to find us some sustenance. Our makeshift Ergals were perfectly capable of turning those old animal bones in our cave into a tolerable ham sandwich, but none of us was terribly hungry. Anyway, John and Aliyah needed some time alone, and so did I.
The somber-faced couple did bring back some figs and dates for us to munch on. Under better circumstances, I would have enjoyed them. We all lay on our mats, staring at the cave’s roof and pretending we were able to sleep.
I crawled over to the fire after a few useless hours trying to dampen my racing thoughts. Spud and John soon joined me, and, heads together and whispering, we spent a fitful night parsing the paradoxes. Over and over, we searched desperately for a loophole that would allow us to complete our mission, and save my brother’s love. Like the math puzzles that had one rowboat transport sworn enemies back and forth across a wide river to safety, we labored over one scenario after another that failed to solve our conundrum.
We’d survived the timeline change, Spud reasoned, because we’d been completely outside Earth’s space time and brane. We could go back to Benedict’s Brane 5 with Aliyah, but, then we’d have to leave her (and maybe us) there while John returned to this brane with the Somalderis and got himself speared into Level Three. There’s a good chance we then might not have a way to get back—if we survived another encounter with Benedict. On the other hand, if we left Aliyah here, and John’s sacrifice reverted the timeline, she might still disappear. And how many other Aliyah’s would we be murdering by returning the timeline to what it once was?
“People that never would have existed without your intrusion in the first place.” Spud played devil’s advocate.
Exhausted, we’d finally dropped off into weary sleep. Perhaps rest would clear our minds and dawn would offer us a ray of hope.
I woke up with the sunshine toasting my exposed skin. The brightness and—peeking out of the cave—the location of the sun in the sky hinted that it was at least mid-morning, and maybe even close to noon.
My stomach growled, and I realized we might wish to Ergal ourselves some anamorphed bone brunch. To shore up the brain cells with some energy for Plan C.
I rubbed Spud’s shoulder before turning to my brother and running a hand across the top of his head. Then I noticed the empty mat. Where was Aliyah?
“I don’t know,” John said, looking around, “I thought she was sleeping next to me all night.”
Spud knelt next to Aliyah’s mat, meticulously examining the area from our beds to the opening of the cave, eyes and nose to the ground, dusting and sniffing like an over-caffeinated bloodhound.
John groaned. “Of course we—“
Spud held up his palm. “No, that’s not what I’m after. There are muddy impressions leading to and away from the mat that have the distinct odor of basil. The herb,” he added, as if we hadn’t already guessed.
“Maybe she’s cooking up something good—I’m getting hungry,” John offered. “Date bread’d be a real treat.”
I waved a hand, signaling that we’d best wait for Spud to finish his investigation. Spud made his way outside the cave, then ambled down to the adjacent stream and around a jutting rock beyond which we couldn’t see. It took him a half hour to return, carrying a small object in his toga, his expression sober.
“What?” John didn’t hide his anxiety. “Where is she?”
“I am not yet certain. I can say with some certitude that I observed multidirectional footprints near the stream. I also found,” he pulled out the vase, “one of the amphorae that had been rubbished in our cave.”
“Water? We’d already gotten some in one of the cave’s tributaries yesterday. She didn’t need to go out, we could’ve Ergaled more,” John sighed. “Why hasn’t she come back?”
“Perhaps a second set of footprints that arrived from the north might be a clue. The Professor seems to have walked alongside this companion for a few yards along the road, before the companion’s footprints veered off into the tall grass, and I was no longer able to observe the impressions.”
Spud shook his head before we asked. “The sandalprints were smaller than the professor’s, and the sandals seemed more unevenly worn. Estimate of leg length and height would indicate that the companion was most likely a small woman.”
John seemed a bit relieved. “Why do you say woman?”
“Both walking and running, men’s and women’s gaits differ due to differences in pelvic anatomy and Q-angle. I can draw you a picture of the angles and—“
John raised a hand, “So where is Aliyah now?”
Spud shrugged. “I returned to the path and followed the trail of the Professor’s sandalprints for over a kilometer. There seems to be a sizable village on the other side of those hills about three kilometers to the northeast. I considered continuing thence alone, but seeing the number of pedestrians crossing my path as I neared the town, I thought it would be best to come here and get my back-up,” Spud paused, hesitating, “I did not see Aliyah’s prints returning in this direction.”
John shrugged, his tone unconvincingly light. “Well, maybe she found something that could help us at that village. Including delicious local food. Let’s go check it out.”
We gathered our Ergals and a few thick branches we might use as walking sticks or defensive weapons, and set off behind Spud towards the nearby village.
The sun beating down on our backs was blisteringly hot. I was grateful to be swaddled in white robes head to toe, and worried that Spud’s pale arms and legs would be burned to a crisp by the time we arrived. Why had Aliyah run off in this direction? The path to the village was covered by dirt and rocks, yet quite a few Judean pedestrians seemed to be journeying back and forth along this road. Fortunately, we did not run into any Roman guards. Bet they weren’t fans of this heat.
We were just at the base of the large hill Spud had described when we heard it. From the other side--a bottomless scream, a cry that froze us in our tracks, followed by a counterpoint chorus of shouts and laughter.
I recognized the voice. Aliyah. At the precipice, staring into the gaping jaws of death.
Chapter 26
Rescue 911
A Judean village—two thousand years ago
Clutching our branches, we clambered over the hill at top speed, racing towards the direction of the cries. The downward slope before us was dotted with small houses built of stone and bricks. A few boys and girls skipped between the homes, throwing pebbles and rocks at each other with giggling glee. Women, their heads covered with large kerchiefs, craned their necks through tiny windows and peered off into the distance ahead where a large crowd of men had gathered.
I’d neglected to morph myself into a man, so I hid between Spud and John as we made our way into the valley, pulling my own hood over a few unruly strands of my spiky blond hair. Running with sandals through rough grass and rocky ground was a challenge; our pace slowed down after we’d turned our ankles more than once.
The spectacle of the gathering seemed to be sufficient distraction for the villagers to keep them from stopping us as we neared. A vocal group of 25 or 30 men were packed three-deep in a circle—we could not see beyond their waving arms and shaking backs. Their shouts rem
inded me of my training mission to Aldebaran’s fifth planet, Krittika, where I’d stumbled on a holiday ceremony that mimicked animal sacrifice. Dressed in colorful robes, the city managers in Nakshatra, the largest city of the country of Parveen, would lead a procession of hundreds of thousands to a central plaza where they would launch the annual tradition of Tzabek, the slaughter of the demons.
Aided by liberal doses of a legal hallucinogenic, the Nakshatrans would excite themselves into a frenzy, their cries and shouts growing louder and louder with each beat of the Tiba drums. Finally, about thirty citizens chosen to be honored in the ceremony were handed serrated gold swords and cheered on to attack a braying golden animal the size of an elephant and the shape of a bull, and subdue it into silence.
I had M-fanned into the city on a recon assignment early in my Academy days with my classmates Spud, Matshi, and Ulenem. We’d been tasked with the goal of locating a theoretical cache of illegal fusion bombs, allegedly hidden somewhere in Nakshatra by Benedict’s terrorist Andarts.
Witnessing the spectacle of Tzabek, I’d been appalled by the animal brutality of the attacking citizens towards the unfortunate bull. Despite Spud’s scolding “Observe and Preserve” to remind me that we should not interfere, I drafted my other two companions on a rescue mission to save the wounded beast.
I grabbed several swords from a vendor at the fringe of the crowd—they made of were pliant plastic, but we intended to intimidate, not injure. Cueing Matshi and Ulenem to follow, I ran screaming through the crowd, shouting Krittikan curses and waving my wobbling weapon, Matshi and Ulenem on my heels. I became the spectacle du jour within a few moments. The crowd paused their cheering and turned to gaze at the Chidurian, the Madaian, and the crazy humanoid disrupting their ceremony with an unscheduled performance.
By the time we’d reached the bull, the ceremonial attackers had also stopped their assault, letting their swords hang from their middle arm down to the ground. The wounded animal stood silently, its eyes glaring at us, as we neared.
And then I saw the wires. And the circuits. Yes, the “animal” was clearly an inanimate—or actually, animate—robot, remotely controlled from a few yards away by a baffled Krittikan unsure of what to do next.
As was I. Oh, well, best to bluff through. Trying not to blush, I raised my sword high, and cried in Zygan, “Victory and Health!”
“Run for it,” I’d whispered to Matshi and Ulenem, as we raced back through the crowd and dove into a waiting tuk-tuk, the three wheeled vehicle Spud was driving. Spud sped off as the stunned crowd watched the local gendarmes run fruitlessly in pursuit. Didn’t get an A on that one.
I had no doubt that the frenzied crowd before us would be much less sanguine and much more sanguinary than the Krittikans. Our Ergals translated their Aramaic phrases as “Kill her!” and “Die, Whore, die!”
Spud and John were taller than most of the rabid villagers and peeked over the men’s shoulders to see what havoc they were wreaking to wrench those screams.
I had never seen my companions so disturbed. Spud had begun shaking, his pale skin blanched as white as Agriarctos’ Ursan fur. John was flushed fiery red with anger from his forehead to his sandaled toes. Using a hand on each of their shoulders to push, I jumped up—and saw these, these primitives, aiming large stones at a collapsed Aliyah’s bleeding head.
“Stop!” cried John in Aramaic. “Stop now!” He charged through the circle, threatening those before him with the thick branch in his right hand.
Spud, too, aimed his branch at anyone who dared move within a few feet, shouting “Maximus Occisor!”
As they broke into the clearing, I covered their tail by wagging my own stick violently back and forth, catching a few stray stones and lobbing them back at their sources. Glad John had taught me to play baseball—I managed to hit quite a few of the stone throwers squarely in their faces with my swing.
Cowards once they met opposition, many of the men fled, the others holding off on shooting new missiles and stepping back as I growled and shook my “bat”. Glancing at Aliyah, I saw that her robes had been torn open, and her skin was gashed with multiple lacerations from the assault. John rushed to Aliyah’s side, kneeling down to caress her abraded cheeks. Spud crouched near Aliyah’s shoulder, and put two fingers on her neck.
“There’s a pulse,” Spud announced, his eyes now monitoring her shallow breathing powered weakly by broken ribs.
John gently lifted Aliyah’s head. Her long brown hair was caked with blood and matted with dirt and clay, and John cradled it in his arms. “Aliyah, please, please, stay with me.”
Aliyah’s eyes flickered open, lost in a fog of pain, and found John’s. For a second, life flared in her face. Her lips struggled to smile, and as her eyes rested closed we heard the faintest trace of a few words. “Al hubb jameel.”
“I love you, too,” John said, his tears rinsing dried blood off Aliyah’s brow. “Don’t go.”
As Aliyah’s eyes grew dim, Spud’s fingers palpated up and down Aliyah’s neck to no avail. He shook his head, and looked away. “Ecchymoses on her chest and abdomen indicate the possibility of massive internal hemorrhage, bleeding. I can begin CPR…?” Spud intoned, not really asking a question.
Aliyah had passed on.
Chapter 27
The Palace of Eternity
Spud stood up slowly, his face scorched by hate. He glared at the stragglers hovering a few yards away and gripped his branch against his chest. I almost couldn’t hear, “To do a great right, do a little wrong.”
“What?” I whispered, muddled.
John came up behind us, carrying Aliyah’s sagging body firmly in his arms. His hands and robes were covered in blood, and his face was streaked with sweat and tears. “We must get her safe,” he croaked, “and then I swear I will come back and tear these bastards limb from limb.”
“We’ll cover you,” I insisted. “Let’s move.”
We had made it back over the hill and as far as the stream when Spud’s sharp eyes observed a young woman cowering behind a juniper bush. He gestured for us to stay alert as we trudged along the banks. Our somber funeral procession would be an easy target, and none of us wanted to have to abandon Aliyah’s body in these barren hills.
Why in the world had Aliyah left the safety of our cave in the first place, and trekked alone towards the river, and the village, without our—or John’s—protection?
My roving eyes also spotted the frightened girl trying to stay undercover as we moved past her haven of juniper bushes. So focused on her task of hiding, she didn’t see Spud veer off and circle around to approach her from behind.
“No farther,” Spud ordered in Aramaic. “Come here.”
John laid Aliyah’s body gently down on the path and stood next to me as Spud led the woman to us by the elbow.
“Why have you been following us?” Spud continued, all district attorney.
Under her headcovering, we could see her eyes and nose were red. She looked no older than my sister Andi. Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak. Unable to draw her gaze from Aliyah’s lifeless body, the girl whispered, “It was supposed to be me.”
“What!” John’s red hue returned as he moved to within inches of her face. “What’re you saying?”
“I-I had been with Ya’akov.” She pointed towards the field with the tall grass, her voice steeped in pain. “But only for a few minutes. I thought I could return without discovery. But the village elders saw us from the hilltop.” She broke into a wave of sobs. “They would have stoned me, as I am betrothed to Igal.”
“So instead you fingered Aliyah?” John exploded. Spud and I both reached for an arm to hold him back.
The young woman shook her head, “No, no, I tried to run. To hide.” She took a shaken breath. “But I am not good at hiding.”
“Indeed,” was Spud’s only comment.
“Your friend, she-she was there, sitting downst
ream by the water, washing her feet.” Looking up at me: “It was she who decided to—to…”
“Pray continue,” Spud urged.
“She seemed to understand what the elders’ were threatening. She told me to run down a different path, towards the Roman encampment, and to circle around into the village from behind. She said she would handle the elders, and ensure that I would not be caught and punished for my transgression.” More sobs. “My father would only have beaten me, but I think she knew the aims of the village elders—she said I was too young to die.”
“And you just left—you left her to be murdered!”
The woman shook, “No, no. She told me it was all right. She said I’d given her the answer she was seeking. Please let me go. If they find I have escaped from my home again, I shall end up like, like…” Her last words were drowned by her tears. She fell to the ground and, slipping from Spud’s grasp, scurried away among the grass.
We didn’t let go of John. I could feel his rage pulsing through the muscles of his arm, and stroked it, hoping to soothe his turmoil even the tiniest bit. After a few minutes, his rapid breathing slowed, and the red in his face began to fade.
“Professor Malamud’s sacrifice grants you carte blanche to make your choice,” Spud said softly. “She must have reasoned that her presence would likely keep you from completing your…mission. By leaving, she has given you your freedom to do what you will.” Spud pursed his lips. “‘A stage where every man must play a part. And mine a sad one.’”
John now stood stiff, unmoving, next to Aliyah’s body. “Leave us alone. Go back to the cave, both of you, and leave us alone.”
Spud nodded, and tugged me by the arm onward down the path. A quarter mile forward, I turned back to take a look. With Aliyah’s corpse resting by his feet, John was still standing, motionless, staring out at the sea.
* * *.
It was nightfall before John returned to the cave, his arms empty.