Chapter THIRTEEN

Jerusalem was in ruins. It looked like the smoldering hail had strafed every window and wall with the force of an Uzi drive-by. Buildings were on fire, shelled by cosmic fury. Car alarms and sirens sounded; the smell of burning gasoline and smoke added to the already dust-laden air.

Fist-sized ice fragments still littered the pocked streets, even though it was close to ninety-five degrees outside. The world's geothermostat was out of order. In fact, there was no such thing left called natural order as Carlos peeped out of the safe house window witnessing what Tobias and Habiba had warned of.

Battered landscape laid bare in yawning, silent screams of fractured earth. The sun wore a deep, charcoal mourning shroud. Dead birds and people paved the ground. Moaning echoed from every doorway and building entrance. The sound of human suffering was like a piteous, droning hum. Small rocks and debris flickered with brimstone fury.

Tobias and Habiba had been so right; he had to see what was going on aboveground and clear the tunnels on a solo check before taking Dragon Rider down there with him. He could have inadvertently jettisoned them into a collapsing section, or right in front of a startled military patrol ... or a feeding den of hiding walkers. Everything seemed like it was on borrowed time, hanging by a fragile thread of existence. Buildings listed, many going down like dominoes to trap the wounded and bury the dead.

But the Temple Mount, the Dome of the Rock, and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher were still standing.

Carlos narrowed his gaze watching for demon sentries and spies, as well as any walking dead. The walkers probably had enough to gorge on by scavenging the insides of all the buildings. But from what'he could tell there were still human authorities and people trying to help injured civilians get to the major religious sites that had now been turned into triage units. "Okay," Carlos said in a low rumble, pulling back from his lookout spot behind a broken window shutter. He wiped both palms down his face and composed his thoughts. "You sure you're up for this, Cordell?"

"Ready as ever," Cordell said, keeping his head low as the small group crouched on the living-room floor. "My age and weight make me less likely to get shot at if I stumble out toward the street and just start crying . . . which after seeing all this ain't hard to do. They'll think I'm a shell-shocked survivor, which will get me into whichever side of the shrine you think best for the search."

"You must dodge the walkers to get to the entrance, though," Tobias warned quickly. "While Carlos is connected below in the tunnels with Dragon Rider, I will have to cover you from the window. Men my age are considered dangerous . . . looters, especially if armed. I can't go with you into the open, or I'll be detained--or worse."

"No," Carlos said. "You fall back, cover him from a window, but I don't want any casualties on this run. We're in, and then we're out. Ain't trying to leave nobody behind." He turned to Dragon Rider. "Okay, two minutes, then I'll pull you to me down below. We do the Wall, you get a location or sense, and then you flip the impression to me, so I can relay it to Cordell." Carlos looked up at Cordell. "The moment you get something, you give me the word to pull you out--then we're all in a fold-away back to the team."

"Sounds like a plan I can live with," Cordell said with a half-smile.

"I'm banking on that, man," Carlos said, his expression completely sober.

"Then we'd better break for it now," Tobias said. "While it is still and the military might not be so quick to shoot first and ask questions later if a survivor stumbles out of a building asking for help in Hebrew. Then they'll take him to the Temple Mount, most likely . . . because they are taking all who are Muslim or speak Arabic, as well as foreigners, to the Dome of the Rock."

Carlos peered out of the window again, watching for rabid stray dogs, walkers, and anything else that could attack Cordell on his short path to the military checkpoint.

"But how do we know for sure which side within the shrine to look in? Until I work on the stones, I cannot tell you if he should be in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher or the Temple Mount or even the Dome of the Rock. And he'll already be segregated into whichever area." Dragon Rider looked at the small squad for a moment, seeming worried for Cordell's safety as he and Tobias edged toward the door.

"Well, we can rule out the Church of the Sepulcher, because it was held by three primary custodians in the eleventh century--Templar time," Cordell said with a faraway look in his eyes. Then as though walking back into the room, he looked at Carlos and the two guardians that were with him. "I know my history. The Greek Orthodox Church, Armenian Apostolic Church, and the Roman Catholic Church--who got the relic via their Templars--had oversight of the shrine then. But in the nineteenth century, the Coptic Orthodox, Ethiopian Orthodox, and Syrian Orthodox churches had coregency over it. In the last days, they wouldn't hide it where you-know-who would assume it would be."

"The thing that came out of Ethiopia," Carlos said, his gaze going back to the window as he fit the puzzle together. "The manuscript wasn't the only thing, the weapon was secreted away there, but came back . . . they wouldn't have it out of Jerusalem at a time like this."

"Right, my Templar brother," Cordell said in a quiet, excited rush. "And the Dome of the Rock is located on the Temple Mount... so all I need is a general vicinity and I can work my way to possible hiding spots--not to mention, I do have a few seer skills of my own, you know."

"Yeah, well, just be careful, man," Carlos said. "No heroics." Tobias and Carlos shared a look. Dragon Rider nodded. "And Godspeed." Both Carlos and Dragon Rider watched Cordell and Tobias slip out of the door. They glanced back to the window, barely breathing as they waited for Cordell to exit the building safely and enter the street. From their individual hiding places, Carlos and Dragon Rider kept their gazes sweeping the streets and the Temple Mount area for any signs of danger.

Even in the eerie, dim half-light where night and day fought for dominance in the unnaturally cojoined sky, the bright copper-hued dome stood out like a beacon above the gleaming white, octagonal-shaped structure.

Tobias gave the low double-knock signal and scrambled back into the room, and then took a sniper's position to cover Cordell so that Carlos could pull back.

"The building is clear so far of walkers," Tobias said, panting from the quick run, his gun trained on the street below. "You go now. Dragon Rider and I will make sure he gets inside without incident while you inspect the tunnels by the ICotel. Travel well, my friend."

His goal had been to get to the Western Stone. Based on what Damali had said, the numerical implications alone made him decide that might be as good a place as any to start. Pitch-blackness met him. All power was out, which he expected. Sulfur and ash stung his nose as his silver night vision adjusted to the surreal darkness. Demon rats had obviously tried to flee along the hallowed corridor--they wouldn't be his problem.

It was so quiet that it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. However, as he stumbled over a soldier's half-eaten body, he knew there was another equally vicious threat to contend with. Silver light from his focused gaze caught them crouched low over human entrails. Light hit their eyes, giving them the reflective appearance of animals caught in high beams on the road. There were so many that they seemed to go on for miles, filling the entire underground passageway. One hiss from the leader and they all stood slowly. Carlos backed up, drew a blade, and did the only thing he could-- send a hard energy charge upward to blow a section of the tunnel ceiling.

Screeches and screams rent the dense tunnel air as huge stones and cement rained down, smashing the walkers. There were too many to risk fighting and bringing contagion back home to the team. Carlos got down low on one knee, covered his head and a section of the Wall with his shield of Heru, and waited as the debris settled. The moment he sensed stillness all around him, he pulled in Dragon Rider under the shield with him.

"Tight quarters and make it fast, sis," he said as she tumbled onto the ground under his shield. "Walkers got here first, and I had to blow the whole length from here to the north end. That's no longer an escape route."

"Give me a minute," she said as they stood, pressing her hands and cheek to the large section of Western Stone by their shoulders.

After only a few moments, Carlos watched the Guardian frown, and then her face contort in agony as tears began to course down her cheeks. Her breathing became so shallow that he feared for her life---and when her nose started bleeding and she cried out, he pulled her away, dropping his sword and shield to pull her into a healing embrace.

"Give it to me," he said, placing a hand on either side of her skull and sweeping her mind with silver sealant. "Let it go, Dragon! Send it to me before you have a cerebral hemorrhage!" "Oh, God--so much pain!" she gasped, her knees buckling as she held on to Carlos's arms for support. "Thousands and thousands of years of agony . . ."

"What did you see?" he asked, gently enfolding her. "I'm gonna take it from you and send you back to the team . . . you make sure Medic heals you up, all right? You did real good," he murmured as her breathing calmed and the images began to flood his mind.

"Water. An abyss," she said quickly, sending lightning-fast images from her mind into his. "A cave. Bi'r al arwah"

"Say it in English for me," he said, holding her tighter, unable to scavenge his mind for the translation while also receiving her transmission.

"Well. Cave. Spirits," she said, beginning to liyperventilate. "Crusaders.. South. Bedrock."

Out of nowhere, fetid hands began to reach, through the fallen rock, moving Carlos's man-made dam. His kissed Dragon Rider on her forehead. "You did real good," he said again. "Thank you." Then he sent her away in a burst of white light, reached out and called his blade into his grip, spun and hacked away a clawing hand, and was gone.

He hit the floor of the safe house without warning, almost causing Tobias to shoot him.

"Sorry, man, it was hectic down there. Did Cordell get through?"

"Yes, he is in," Tobias said, his gaze torn between Carlos and the window for a moment before he ducked down. "And Dragon Rider?"

"She'll have a helluva headache, but she's back with the team. So many wars, so much emotion is charged into those stones . . . she almost had a stroke." Carlos wiped his brow with his forearm. "I only got pieces. . . gotta hope Cordell can put it together. She said a word I don't know . . . Bi'r al something. Cave, bedrock, water, spirits, abyss, south, Crusaders, which I know is the Templars, but the rest. . . hey. It was hitting her so hard that all I could get was one-word sound bites."

"Bi'r al arwah?" Tobias said slowly, lowering his weapon.

"Yeah," Carlos said, still breathing hard. "I think so."

"Bi'r al arwah is the Well of Souls. Crusaders hacked an entrance hole into the bedrock of the Temple Mount from the south. Under that rock is a natural cave where it is believed that the Ark of the Covenant was originally hidden during the destruction of Jerusalem before it was secreted away to Ethiopia . . . also in the Talmud, the cave is said to be the center of the world where the waters of the Flood still rage from the abyss."

Tobias dropped down to sit and allowed his back to lean against crumbling plaster. "Carlos, that rock is where they say the archangel Gabriel held it here on earth when it wanted to ascend to Heaven with the great prophet Muhammad. The crack in the rock is from where he made his visionary journey. Souls of martyrs and saints guard that well."

Carlos just stared at Tobias for a moment. "If Gabriel has his handprint on pure bedrock beneath a temple that people from the three major religions have devoutly prayed in for thousands of years . . . pure rock that sits over the rushing waters that began the world and also wiped it out, with spiritual sentries on 24/7 watch ... I can tell you that if I was trying to keep something safe from the darkside, I would think that would be like a spiritual Fort Knox, don't you?"

Dragon Rider came out of Carlos's jettison, took two staggered steps forward, and dropped. Damali, Marlene, and Berkfield were on her in seconds. But Marlene quickly held out her stick and used it to bar Damali from going closer.

"Me and Richard got this," Marlene said. "If she came back with contagion or a demon presence, you don't need that in your system."

Berkfield squatted beside the fallen Guardian, instinctively placing his hands on either side of her head as Marlene slowly passed the now-glowing ebony walking stick over Dragon Rider's body.

"Her nose is bleeding, never a good sign with a seer." Berk-field stared up at Marlene as Quick came to squat beside her fallen Guardian sister, and the rest of the team gathered around.

"I don't care what you say, Mar," Damali said, pacing behind Marlene. "If she doesn't come around in the next few minutes, I'm going in."

People were beyond touching one another. The guards at the shrine entrance lowered weapons and used gun nuzzles from their automatics to run up and down Cordell's body to be sure he was clear of firearms.

"There is limited food and water here," a soldier said, not allowing Cordell to immediately pass. "If you are not injured--" "I don't need to eat, I just want to pray. Bricks fell on my head and--"

"You are not bleeding."

Cordell nodded, his nervous gaze darting around the fearsome retinue of soldiers. "This is why I want to pray. The way the ceiling fell, I was in a pocket. I got knocked out but not bloodied. My neighbors weren't so lucky," Cordell replied in Hebrew, beginning to weep earnest tears. "But I saw the creatures pulling my neighbors down the hall to the deaths--the screaming, the crying. I cannot get it out of my head. What are these things that eat human flesh . . . that murder?"

"He is an old man," another soldier argued from a high post. "He's able to talk, isn't sick. Let him through--it could be your father or your brother . . . and since we're all probably going to die in this Apocalypse, do you want to have it on your head that you left an old man out here to fend for himself against demons? What will you say to Yahveh?"

The soldier that had stopped Cordell lifted his automatic to allow him to pass. "Shalom."

Dragon Rider sat up slowly, coughing as Berkfield wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand arid the collective teams released quiet exhalations of relief.

"You really took one for the team there, kiddo," Berkfield said, dabbing his nose.

"Thanks for going in and putting my poor head back together." She lifted her dark sandy hair off her neck and closed her eyes with a wince. "Can't remember a thing I saw, but have a nasty headache for the trouble."

"You'll be all right," Marlene said, stooping down to massage her neck. "I can draw the rest of it out, but whatever you saw was for Carlos and Cordell only . . . just as well, because it might have been something that would haunt you for the rest of your days."

Dragon Rider leaned into Marlene's nimble touch. "Like none of the rest of this would?"

Damali smirked. "I hear you. Just glad you're back in one piece. We really appreciate everything you did back there." "Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" Marjorie asked. "Hot flash?" Marlene said, joking to relive the tension. "Comes with the territory, lady . . . but I thought it was me from helping with a healing."

"No," Delores said quietly as she brought Ayana's limp body to Damali and Inez. "The baby is burning up. She won't wake up--she's all fevered."

"I noticed Delores felt warm," Monty said, "and then I went to go get her some water and it wasn't cool like before."

Inez grabbed her child from her mother's arms and held her tightly as Guardians got to their feet and stared at the steaming reservoir.

Damali held out her arms at each side, turning around slowly, sensing, listening. It was quiet above them; the hail, fire, and brimstone rain had stopped. She looked up. There was no breach at the mouth of the tunnel entrance.

"Demons can't get in here because of the prayer barriers, demon rats will fry on contact, and the tunnel is barricaded against the walkers . . . they won't fry because they aren't technically demons--just reanimated humans with feral, rabid qualities awakened within their dead nervous systems," Shabazz said as sweat trickled down his temples.

"But they can heat the rocks and earth all around this shaft and turn it into an oven," Damali said, watching steam rise as the water in the reservoir begin to bubble. "I've gotta get you all out of here."

"But where?" Frank Weinstein said, panicked, holding his wife closer. "If the demons have enough power to melt the rocks around us and our weapons are almost spent--where do we take women and children?"

There was only one place she knew of from her team's tour there before that was nearby, hallowed ground that they might not violate so terribly by stumbling across the threshold unwashed, with men and women and children all in one huddled mass.

Damali called her Isis into her palm. "Church of the Holy Sepulcher."

Cordell kept his head down and his hands clasped in prayer as his eyelids fluttered with Carlos's strong mental transmission. The images hit his mind so hard and fast that his eyeballs stung and a piercing, clear voice filled his mind.

I can't go in there without violating the cleansing laws and we don't need any variables right through here, Carlos said. Once you're in the cave, you've gotta sense for it. Can you make it?

I don't know, Cordell's mind whispered back. Can you use my eyes to see? There's chaos all around . . . the entire complex has been turned into a giant army hospital and refugee camp here, but they are monitoring movement very heavily. They're shooting walkers that try to breach the perimeter, and there might even be some in the cave.

Okay, Carlos said on a hard mental exhalation. Lend me your eyes; let me see what you see as you try very carefully to make your way to that side of the building. If I see a walker or someone coming for you, I'll pull you out of there. Trust me, if I could see exactly where the relic was without having to send a pair of human hands to go get it, I'd pull it in without putting you in this position . . . but that's just the thing--this weapon has been so hidden and prayer sealed that only a righteous human with a pure soul can actually retrieve it. Maybe that's also why Hern said to send the baby . . . but you can understand why me and Damali weren't even trying to go there, right?

I want to do this--

I told you that before. Cordell got up slowly, and continued his prayers aloud, passing military guards. Take over my eyes. Use my sight.

Carlos wrapped his arms around his knees as he sat on the floor. Tobias kept a lookout and covered Carlos as silver �filled his irises and his gaze became distant. Soon the two seers joined as knighted Templars, sharing the same vision, with Carlos's vision being slightly bowled and distorted, but accurate nonetheless.

"I'm in," Carlos murmured aloud, and then sent Cordell the same message in a mental barb.

It took Carlos's complete concentration to follow the scenes being sent from Cordell's mind into his. Everything coming to him was in a grainy stream of continuous impressions that was like watching a very badly handheld-camera-filmed silent movie.

Pallets, bodies amid Byzantine architecture loomed like a sea of writhing, wailing misery. The triage camp seemed to go on for forever as Cordell navigated his way to the Dome of the Rock. Then the images stopped. Flashed in and out. An angry Palestinian guard halted Cordell. There was a flurry of words that Carlos couldn't hear. A weapon was raised. There was no image. Carlos stood quickly, ready to do a jettison, but Cordell's words stabbed into his mind. Not yet. Images came back. A weapon in his focus slowly lowered. Images vanished again for a moment.

I can't talk to them or you and keep my concentration of letting you use my eyes--takes a lot of energy.

It's cool, Carlos replied, sending Cordell protective vibes. You take care of you, first and foremost. If you need me to pull you out, drop the visual and holler.

No, no, I'm okay, Cordell shot back quickly. They said I was on the wrong side, but I said my wife and children were on their side. I told them we'd gotten separated and I just wanted to bring them back to where they belonged. They have so much going on, guarding anything or anybody is futile and those guys are tired. That's the advantage of being my age; folks always underestimate you and let you pass.

Carlos's shoulders relaxed. Okay, man, as long as you're good.

Tell you what would be a big help, Cordell finally said as he crossed the large courtyard.

Name it.

If you see a walker, rather than jettison me and not get what we need--send that sucker into a tunnel or somewhere . . . you keep them things off of me, I can work on frightened human beings by using diplomacy.

Carlos rubbed his hands down his face. Done.

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