To Kill the Christ! - Chapter Six: Three Against the World

       There was little light in the sky when the two of them reached the meadow. Rebecca was tending a pot in the fire and had stood to warm her backside when Carl emerged first from the forest. She started to wave, then jerked the back of her hand to her mouth when she saw Raphael close behind. Complications!

       She was satisfied with the brief account Carl gave her while he bathed and she dressed Raphael's wound. Raphael thanked her. If he's Muslim, he isn't doctrinaire, she thought. It's going to be an interesting situation, if we live through it.

       She had cooked the remainder of the unspoiled venison, putting the bones into a soup so they had their fill of hot broth and meat. Tomorrow would be another day, and Carl would have to start early for there was no corner grocery store here. Their picnic supplies had run out, and they didn't want to rely entirely on the rations in the supply wagon.

       Raphael was as tired as they had been, but he still was "high" from his experience, despite a persistent headache. He wanted to tell his story. They wanted to hear it.

       His group had been planning an attack on the American Embassy in London. "We weren't a part of those jihadists who killed the innocents in the London subway," he said. "We had specific targets to destroy. We had grievances against the American and British governments, but our plans were blown apart when the fishermen saw our weapons."

       He relaxed a little, then gave a grimace. "One of our men carelessly walked around with his Uzi," he said. "Two fishermen saw him and fled, probably to report. One of our men with a rifle shot them before they could escape." Raphael's English was very good and almost without accent.

       "It was a tactical error to be seen, and the shots created more problems. A couple picnicking in the field next door fled before they could be killed." He looked expectantly, almost clinically.

       Carl nodded

       Raphael smiled. "Good, there already was too much killing. I'm glad you made it." He paused, flushed and partially disoriented. He ran his good hand through his thick black hair.

       "We were testing a weapon, a laser cannon, which one of our men, a professor at Cardiff, had been working on for years. He had developed a rare earth coil which gathered energy and then released it in a brilliant burst of power. That's what he called his little machine—SuperBurst." Raphael gave them a crooked grin.

       "We were skeptical, as he had been working on it for several years, and it still wasn't perfected. He had made small things vaporize in the laboratory, but he had made a larger machine for our experiment. If it worked, we were going to use it on the embassy. Which is why we were outside Brobury, to test it."

       He stretched his good left arm, stood up and walked around. An overcast sky bespoke coolness, but the temperature was moderating as though there was a touch of early spring.

       Rebecca and Carl were fascinated. They could see the outlines ahead. Since Raphael was with them he had been hit by his own machine, and that probably meant that his group had failed. But they would have to await his story.

       "When we first arrived at the house, Professor Nasser charged his cannon. A weakness of the machine is that it takes, er, took, about eight hours to get a full charge. He aimed it at a large tree across the clearing from the house and literally pulverized it!" Raphael's eyes widened in the light of the fire. He was reliving the experience. "The laser hit the trunk then engulfed the entire tree including the leaves with a brilliant burst of light! It totally disappeared, leaving a hole where the roots had been! We had hoped he might make a hole in the tree, but to destroy a large tree like that was something we hadn't expected. Nor, I think, had the professor. We were delirious with joy for we had a marvelous weapon."

       He shook his head at what might have been. "What we didn't know, of course, nor would we have cared, was that the tree didn't simply disappear, it was sent to another time." He looked askance. "Have you seen it?"

       They nodded.

       Carl broke in. "How can a laser be a time machine? There's no relationship to time."

       "I don't know." Raphael slowly shook his head. "I don't know physics. He used some kind of time inductor device which, if I understood him, made the laser powerful enough to destroy large objects. For all I know, that's what threw us back in time."

       Carl grumbled to himself, I'm no wizard in physics, either. He spoke out. "I suppose how we were sent back in time is less important than that we were. We have to find out when we live."

       Raphael smiled, a handsome face and attractive smile, nodded, then continued. "The rifle fire, first against the fishermen and then when you fled, attracted the attention of others in the area. A constable inquired about the shots. We took him hostage. Another was in the car talking on the phone when we grabbed the first. He fled, so we killed him. The police called in an SAS counter-terrorism unit. We caught that on BBC that evening.

       "Because of the size of the equipment we couldn't break our way out of the trap we were in. Our only hope lay in the machine itself. If we could get the SAS to lay back, or to brazenly attack us, we might be able to do so much damage we would have time to escape."

       He shook his head. "But Allah ordained otherwise. We were about to obliterate headquarters which we could barely see from the attic when a lorry parked in front of it. The SuperBurst hit it instead. From what you say, whoever was in that lorry was blasted into history. Is he around?"

       Carl answered. "He died. Go ahead."

       "The total destruction of the lorry and trailer affected the SAS. They pulled back into entrenched positions. An armored halftrack had been brought to the command post earlier. We fully expected to see it before another day had passed. But the power of the laser forced them to withdraw it behind what we took to be the command post. In any case, we had a stalemate for all of the time we needed to recharge the SuperBurst cannon. If they had attacked right after we hit the lorry they could have taken us with few casualties, but of course they didn't know we needed time to recharge the laser."

       Carl interrupted. "Why didn't the SAS just blow the house apart?"

       "I'm sure they wanted to, but they had some hopes of rescuing the policeman.

       "Our leader decided to destroy the new command post, so the professor aimed the laser at it. Since it was laser aimed he couldn't have missed, but just as he prepared to shoot, SAS commandoes attacked from all sides of the house, hand grenades went off inside the building and jolted the SuperBurst, and it shot into the sky."

       Rebecca interrupted, "That probably sent some of our famed air pollution to this time."

       Carl grunted. "Too bad it didn't hit an attack helicopter."

       Raphael had slowed perceptibly, but he wanted to finish the story. "We fought off the commandos, but just barely. Their timing was off because we'd placed anti-personnel mines around the house, which went off at the start of the attack. That warned us and killed or wounded several of their men. If their attack had been timed perfectly, I wouldn't be here now. As it was, I was wounded.

       "We expected a full scale attack after the commando raid failed. Their commander tried to negotiate, but that was impossible. We couldn't give up the laser because it was an entirely new concept in destructive power. All we could do was buy time for the cannon to recharge. Unfortunately, the professor was killed in that raid. Too bad, too. He was a brilliant man, more brilliant than he'll ever know."

       Raphael was exhausted. He sat on a log near the fire, his shoulders slumping. Then, somewhere from deep within himself, he drew enough energy to finish the tale. "The final assault came at dawn. We were already decimated by the first attack, so we knew we couldn't hold them off. We swore to die to keep the weapon from getting into British hands. As soon as the cannon had recharged we destroyed the charging apparatus. We knew we wouldn't get another chance.

       "A flash grenade set off a fire in the north room, driving Mustapha, who had the weapon, into the living room, where I was. At the same time, a commando in black burst through the window and leveled his machine pistol at me, but he didn't fire because I was unarmed."

       Carl broke in. "It's amazing a man could react that fast under such circumstances. That takes extraordinary reflexes and great training."

       Raphael doggedly continued, as though Carl had not interrupted. "The rest is like a slow motion picture. Mustapha aimed at the commando, but he was faster and hit him with several rounds, driving him back into the fire. As he fell into the flames I thought, 'Shoot! Shoot!' but his weapon swung toward me."

       Raphael paused as though reliving the moment. "I was paralyzed when I saw it swing my way. I bent over to get below the line of sight. But the weapon dipped as he finally got off his burst, and the last thing I remember was a brilliant light. The next thing I knew I was lying over that tree with my feet dangling in the river. Then you plucked me out of the water."

       Raphael's face was flushed, as though he was living through the action. There's something almost sensual about battle, Carl thought. Every sense is heightened when one's life is forfeit. Facing an enemy weapon but a few feet away and living through it must have been terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

       But a closer look showed that Raphael was flushed from more than action. "How did that wound look, Rebecca?"

       "Not good. I washed it in sterilized water and put antibiotic salve on it before wrapping it, but it's infected."

       Turning to Raphael, she asked: "How long has it been since you were wounded?"

       "It was 24 hours or so before the final attack took place. We didn't have any medical supplies, so we weren't able to dress the wound properly. I'm afraid all kinds of dirt got into the wound before the end."

       "Is there much pain? You're flushed."

       Carl was worried. Raphael obviously had lost blood before the bleeding was stanched, and the infection had a long start on their efforts to stop it. A medicine kit in the British army wasn't meant for field surgery, at least the one they had wasn't. There was morphine, but it would only ease the pain. Only a bottle of antibiotic pills offered a chance to kill it.

       "Raphael, we'll give that wound a good examination in the morning. Right now you need sleep. Rebecca will give you a shot of morphine to ease the pain and help you sleep. There's a sleeping bag over tarps and odds and ends in the back of the truc. . .lorry. It should be comfortable for the night. We'll figure something out tomorrow."

       He helped Raphael into an armored jacket to provide some warmth.

       "We'll also have to figure out what the three of us are going to do together. You may not know it, but I think we live before Mohammed. There's probably no Islam or, maybe, even Christianity. There's no Mecca, or at least there's no Mecca as a holy city for Islam. Whatever problems you were trying to solve, whether Palestinian rights, al Qaeda, whatever, they have no meaning in this day."

       Carl paused to let his message sink in. It would take time for Raphael to recognize how changed was his situation. "Our primary goal is to learn to live in this time, whatever it is. And it's the three of us against this world. We were enemies two or three days ago. For you it was only a few hours ago. We're comrades now."

       Carl banked the campfire, preparing it for morning, then led Raphael to the truck. "Think on this idea before going to sleep: We're out of joint with time. We think like people from the Twenty-first Century, when we may be living before the time of Christ. And I'm tired, and I want to go to bed with my wife. This is our wedding night."

       Rebecca felt the flush in her face, but only she could tell in the darkness. Carl held a flashlight as she injected a morphine ampoule to help Raphael sleep. She gave him an antibiotic capsule. They were going to need him, just as he needed them right now.

       It was an odd threesome to stand against the world, but they were all they had. No other time travelers would tumble into their era.

       Raphael tossed while he tussled with the big questions, just as they had done and would continue to do until they died. How could they, with belief systems rooted in centuries of tradition and dogma shed those beliefs, even though they couldn't possibly apply to the era in which they lived? It was unlikely that they would change their way of thinking just because they lived in a new era, but they eventually would have to confront the impossibilities. With what would they replace their beliefs? Or, would they?

       For the third straight night Carl went against a cardinal principle of military operations in the field, never sleep without posting a sentry. But he had other things on his mind, in particular his wedding night. He turned to find Rebecca had joined two sleeping bags together to form a double bed. He hugged her silently before removing his holster, but both had their minds on Raphael.

       "The wrist is serious, Carl. If we don't get help he might lose it or his entire arm."

       "You're the only hope he has."

       "I was thinking of Bath. We could use the waters. Their mineral content and the heat might help the drugs combat infection. It's all I can think of."

       Though it was pitch black in the tent, she turned from him in modesty to remove her clothing. Carl threw aside the tent flaps to allow the light from the fire to enter the tent. He wanted to see as well as caress her.

       He removed his boots, sitting on the edge of the bags. "I was hoping we could stay several days, until your rib had healed, but I guess that's not to be."

       He joined her in the sleeping bag and threw back the top though it was cool outside. He could barely make out the outline of her body from the flickering flames. Earlier he had rubbed his hands against the jacket, trying to smooth the roughness of the past few days and warmed them over the fire before entering the tent. Now he traced her contours with his fingers, their lips sharing their love. He used the condom he had found on the SAS driver.

       He pulled back gently. "Let's wait until morning to decide on Raphael. We need him and he needs us. But we've got to save his life and his arm, if it's possible."

       She could feel his passion growing. "Enough about Raphael. Tonight's for us." And she enveloped him with her own passion.

       Gently, at first, then violently they committed themselves to each other, body and soul. But Raphael's predicament occupied a corner of their minds, moderating their first night of love.