2013: Beyond Armageddon (40 page)

The archaeologist stared at him, dumbfounded. “You mean, all the way into Hell, if you find it? By yourself?”

“That’s right.”

“Zeke, you can’t
do
that.”

“Yes I can,” Zeke said calmly.

“The diving part alone would be risky. The Hell part would be…I don’t know what the word is. Suicidal comes to mind.”

“It’s a risk I’m going to take.”

A lifetime of training screamed at Mordecai that this would violate every safety rule, starting with diving’s First Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Dive Without A Buddy. But as Zeke continued to stare at him, unblinking, his face a stony mask of resolve, he knew the matter was not open to discussion. He picked up the pen and legal pad he’d pushed off to the side.

“All right. Before you got here I was making notes on everything we’ll need to do.”

Zeke took a quick sip from his coffee. “Shoot.”

“Well, it’s kind of good news/bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Man, if there’s any good news, I really need to hear it.”

“I’m not absolutely certain that it’s good news, but it might be. It’s just an educated guess, but somehow, where the tunnel flattens out, the land has shifted around in a way that the water can’t reach. The water flows into the downward section, but can’t make it up to that flat section or the rest of the tunnel beyond that. It could make sense, given the fact that this was once all above ground. Maybe this was one continuous land tunnel originally. A mineshaft, possibly. Since we’re on one of the major fault lines in the world, maybe seismic activity caused an upheaval in the earth’s crust.”

“Thanks for reminding me about being on a major fault line. I didn’t have quite enough to worry about.”

“Right now I think an earthquake is the least of our worries.” He ignored Zeke’s rolled eyes. “Anyway, maybe the seismic activity that formed the Dead Sea changed the course of the tunnel from straight up-and-down to the zig-zag one we’re looking at. The same water that broke through and formed the sea naturally flowed down, and filled the downhill section of the tunnel, but the water didn’t rise to fill the uphill slope, or if it did, the water has leached off. Or maybe the section has just dried up, like the rest of the southern basin.”

“Sounds plausible.”

“Again, it’s a guess. Can’t know for sure until we—you—go down that final section.”

“So that’s the good news?”

“Right. Now let’s go through the list of all the things that have to happen for you to do this.”

He looked at his notes. “As always, the first problem is air. Even two tanks might not be enough if anything goes wrong. And we have no idea how long or safe that last section of tunnel is. For all we know it goes to the center of the Earth. However far it goes, you need food, drink, you need to go to the bathroom. You’ll need some equipment: basic tools, spare lights—who knows? And you’ve been saying all along that you want to take the relics. That would make for a very heavy backpack. Fifty pounds at least, probably more. Maybe a lot more.”

“I’d only take what I could carry. Obviously, you pack as light as you possibly can. I even read about a backpack that has helium in the frame tubing to further lighten your load.”

“Fine, but we’re at the lowest point on earth, which means that the atmospheric pressure is the heaviest. That downward pressure would work against the upward lift of your helium.”

“Then we figure out a way to use more helium. Whatever. Mordecai, let me stop you. I see where you’re going, and I appreciate it. You’re trying to keep me alive. Believe me, I’m with you on that. But I’m going down alone, so we just need to make that happen.

“Once we figure out everything I’ll need, a caravan of divers can shuttle it through the tunnel and up to that dry flat stretch. They can set up sort of a supply depot at the entrance to that final downward section. From that point, I’ve got to head down with whatever I can carry on my back—lights, tools, food, drink, whatever. I can probably pack enough subsistence provisions for about three days—a week, tops, and still leave room for as many of the relics as possible. Beyond that, we leave whatever we think I’ll need at the supply depot for when I make it back. More food, water, tanks of air, and so forth.”

“You’ve made up your mind,” Mordecai said, resignation in his voice.

“I have.”

Mordecai theatrically made a big X over the remaining notes. “So what about the return trip? We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be gone, if you’re in trouble…”

“If I get in trouble—God forbid—it’s the kind of trouble no one can save me from. I’ve just got to do this, Mordecai. Me alone. Too many people have died. I can’t—I won’t—put anyone else at risk. I’m extremely grateful for what everyone has done to get us this far. The rest is on me. God has told me He would look out for me. That’s going to have to be enough.”

“I wish I had that kind of faith.”

“Maybe you will if this works out. Maybe the world will.”

“That’s a…tall order, I think the expression is. We humans have become hopelessly cynical. With good reason. But if God Himself saved you from the clutches of Satan—and you could somehow prove it—that would be our best hope of reversing the suicidal course we’re on.”

“Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?”

“Yes. You’re right. I want to believe, but my faith is not as strong as yours.”

“That’s understandable. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

“True. All right then. Back to business. Suppose you make it all the way down and accomplish your mission. How are you going to get back? From the bowels of Hell, no less?”

“Same way I came in. If I defeat him, game’s over and I’m home free. If I lose, getting back out will be a moot point.”

Mordecai stared at him for a very long moment. Hoping for divine intervention wasn’t a plan, but there was nothing he could do about it. At last a hint of a smile forced its way onto his lips.

“As your Director, I must tell you that, compared to this, I think you’d have a better chance of climbing Everest naked.”

“It’s a long shot, is what you’re telling me.”

“The longest.”

“Well, I don’t know how much you’ve followed the Super Bowl over the years, but in 1969 nobody gave the New York Jets a chance. But they had Joe Namath. And, believe it or not, in my high school days, some recruiters said I was a better quarterback. Had a stronger arm. I had a cannon. Plus I could run.”

“That running thing could come in handy.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Zeke saw Joe Dayagi walk into the room. “I need to get with Joe for a few minutes. I’ll catch up with you when we’re done.”

They met at the coffee station. Dayagi filled two Styrofoam cups and handed one to Zeke. “Thanks.” Dayagi sipped his black while Zeke put cream and sugar in his. “Let’s sit for a minute, Joe. I need to run something by you.”

They sat at a table well away from the coffee station, which would soon be the busiest spot in the War Room. “Mordecai told you what this is all about?” Zeke said. “What we’re ultimately trying to find?”

“Hell. Satan.”

“That’s right. I’m the point man, and I’m going to need some weapons, in case me and him come face to face. Mordecai told me about your military training in munitions, so I wanted to get your thoughts on what I’m planning to do.”

“Sure.”

“You saw the crucifixes and bottles of holy water in the room upstairs last night?”

“Yes.”

“I want to convert them into weapons. Projectiles. At first I kept thinking about some kind of gun, or something we might rig up to launch them. Then I realized the best gun I have is my arm. I could throw a football 70 yards in high school. Very accurately.”

“That would be better. That’s plenty of range, and you don’t have to pack a lot of extra equipment, which would probably be too large, too cumbersome anyway. And you’d have more control.”

“Right. So here’s what I’m thinking: the four ends of the crucifixes could be ground down to sharp points. That way, when they hit him, they’ll stick—unless none of the four points make contact, which is highly unlikely, or unless his hide is incredibly thick, which is entirely possible. Or he could be just a spirit and they’ll sail right through. That’s why I’ll have the holy water for backup. It doesn’t need to penetrate.”

“The crucifix thing makes sense. We can do that. But the holy water. It’s in little bottles with caps on them. When the bottle hits, the water won’t get on him. Which means you’d have to take the caps off first, but you might not have time for that. Even if you do, a lot of the water will leak out by the time it gets to the target.”

“Absolutely. So I need to get the water into something that will explode on impact, like a percussion grenade.”

“A percussion grenade is exactly what you need. Somehow we’d have to get the water inside of it.” He considered the problem for a moment. “I can come up with something,” he said. “Let me work on it.”

“Work fast, Joe. Today’s the 12th. The moment of truth is supposedly coming on the 21st. I need to head down sometime before that. We have no idea how far I might have to hike, but I’ve got to allow at least a couple days.”

“I’ll start today. You don’t need me on the water any more.”

“Good. Can you take care of grinding the crucifixes?”

“Yes. Which gives me another idea.”

“What’s that?”

“The shavings could be turned into bullets. Silver bullets. They’re supposed to have some power over evil, right?”

“Yes. Especially ones made from this silver.”

“I can make the bullets and get you a pistol to put them in. Fully automatic. One pull of the trigger empties the magazine.”

“That would be good,” Zeke said. “You could melt down some of the other crucifixes if you needed to, so I’d have more than one magazine.”

“Consider it done.”

“I’m glad you’re on my team, Joe. I’m curious. Why did you get into munitions?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Friends of mine were dying from terrorist attacks all over the place. Innocent, good people. Women, children. People who had never hurt a soul. I decided that, when I got out of the Navy, I was going to be involved in Israel’s war on terror. When Mordecai told me you were digging for Hell, I was doubtful. I still am. But if there really is a Satan, it seems like he’d be the ultimate terrorist.”

“That’s how I’m looking at it. He’s the ultimate trigger man.”

“And you can’t just sit back and wait for the enemy to discharge his weapon. You’ve got to fight fire with fire. I used that expression so much in the Navy they started calling me the Fireman.”

“That’s good to know. Because we’ve got one hell of a fire to put out. Pun intended.” The barest hint of a smile made its way onto Dayagi’s handsome face. “You’re a good man, Joe.”

Dayagi shrugged. “I’m not sure about that, but I do like taking out bad guys.”

“That puts you on the side of good.”

“It lets me look at myself in the mirror.”

“I know the feeling.” Zeke stuck out his hand. Dayagi’s handshake was firm and dry. “I’ll get with you this evening,” Zeke said. “See where we stand.”

Dayagi went back to the coffee station for a refill and Zeke rejoined Mordecai, who was making notes at the large workstation on the far side of the room. “Where were we?” Zeke said.

“Talking about setting up a supply depot. I’m a making a list of what you’ll need.”

“Let’s do it.”

Mordecai merely nodded.

There was nothing more to be said.

The final decision had been made.

The next five days were a whirlwind of preparations for Zeke’s final descent, with Mordecai the calm overseeing eye at its center. While every piece of equipment was being tested and re-tested, a team of divers continuously shuttled supplies until a stockpile providing for every conceivable contingency awaited at the entrance to the downward section of tunnel. Mordecai had been adamant about the necessity of every item, knowing full well that most of them would never get used. Only one detail remained before Zeke headed down tomorrow morning: delivery of his arsenal. He sat alone in the War Room, waiting for Joe Dayagi. Dayagi had been gone since his meeting with Zeke, scouring Israel to procure the items he needed to convert the relics into weapons.

Today was the 17th. Monday. The solstice was Friday. He’d start as early as possible tomorrow, but still…That left four days to hike a trail that, for all he knew, could go to the center of the Earth. And no matter how efficiently he packed, he wouldn’t be able to carry enough food to last much longer than that…

He sipped his coffee and picked at a pastry, trying to silence the voice of reason that kept whispering how astronomical the odds against him were. For what seemed like the thousandth time he told himself that this was a mission where logic and common sense didn’t apply. From the moment he’d decided to do this, he’d had to accept that the only way he could succeed was with the help of miracles. He couldn’t start second-guessing that decision now.

It helped that Reese Nolan was arriving today. As much as he’d been against it, now Zeke was glad Leah had talked him into letting Reese come over, “for moral support if nothing else.” He’d take all the moral support he could get for the coming task. And nobody besides Leah could strengthen his spirits more than Reese.

Dayagi came in carrying a large duffel bag. Zeke looked at his watch. Six on the dot.

They met at the long table in the center of the room. Dayagi swung the duffel up onto the table, got himself a coffee, then came back and unzipped the bag to reveal its contents.

“Your arsenal,” he said.

The modified silver crucifixes filled two-thirds of the four-foot-long bag. Zeke gave them a quick admiring glance, but it was the objects filling the rest of the bag that brought a smile to his face. They had consulted on the design, but Zeke had doubted that Dayagi would be able to pull it off.

“Believe it or not,” Dayagi said, “finding just the right size footballs was the hardest part. I had to have them FedExed here from the United States.”

“God bless America,” Zeke said.

Dayagi handed him one.