Prologue One

The beginning of the end.

 

 

 

AETERNO UMBRA

By

Thomas Allen Erb




























“The war is over
The crypt we now taste
In the late 1900's, there is no human race
We split the planet with atomic birth
Man has died
We seal the urn.

Negotiations are over
Troops are marching to their doom
All that I see is a nightmare
The smoke is blotting out the moon
No, God please stop this bloody slaughter
We are off the beaten track
All the masses are rebelling
To withstand the dark attack
Will we make it back beyond the black?

Tanks are rolling in millions
See them come, and now they're gone
All the mountains are blackened
They said it came from just one bomb
No God please stop this bloody slaughter
Let it all repeat -- attack
All the masses are rebelling
To withstand the dark attack
Will we make it back beyond the black?
Will we make it back beyond?

Out of the crypt with faces marred
Seems the night has won
We unite as one
No more weapons, no more guns
Look out!
Food supplies are worth more than gold
Turn the young into old
With blinded eyes we count the cost
Of everything that we lost
Look out!

Watch out!
Beyond the black!!!”

- David Wayne- Metal Church


Prologue:

“It is double pleasure to deceive the deceiver”
                         -Niccolo Machiavelli


West Bank, City of Hebron- late summer 1984
 
    Checking, then double checking, the pale skinned man went through his black hard-shell case making sure the contents were secure and still in there right location.
          So much is riding on this transaction, the well coiffed silver haired man thought as he closed the last clasp on the prized case on his lap
         “How much longer?” he sharply inquired to the dark, red turban adorned man driving the late model BMW. He spoke in a guttural language seemingly Germanic in origin the driver thought before responding to his obviously anxious passenger.
           “ Ten minutes at most sir” the driver replied with a thick Arabic accent barely discernable to the middle-age westerner in the back seat.
    “That’s ten minutes too long”, he whispered to himself trying to hide his overriding contempt he felt for the chauffer. It wasn’t the driver himself perse', it was all humankind that brought bile to the mouth of the Teutonic priest that now dressed in secular clothes.
    “Sir, you must cover your head please”, the driver said to his passenger, handing him a cotton black bag. “It is for our security and yours as well… You understand of course”. The swarthy man continued politely but the black leather adorned man knew he did not have a choice. He reluctantly took the bag from the driver and with a disgusted breath placed it over his head.
    Gustav Moltke hadn’t gotten this far in life without knowing what battles are worth fighting and those that are best fought on his own terms later. He couldn’t help but think of Machiavelli’s “The Prince”, as he tried to put this insulting portion of this mission behind him. “This will all be worth it in the end!’ he mumbled through the sweat soaked bag.
The silver BMW made its way through the narrow, crowded streets, then made many lefts and rights seeming random to it’s foreign passenger. After nine minutes the car left the crowded city behind and pulled into a walled compound with over twenty armed guards atop the walls and surrounding the aging stucco walls.
    “After all of these long years, our plan is coming to fruition Great One!” Gustav prayed in a low but pious voice. The broad smile was still on his aging face as the car came to a stop, while the early evening air kicked up the still hot sand and dirt of the ancient land of the West bank.
    The next few moments were a blur to the German, whisked from the car, half dragged onto his feet; he barely had time to grab his precious case. Two men on either side grabbed him by the arms and pulled him forward. A multitude of voices, all speaking Arabic at break neck speeds that even a fluent outsider would still be unable to discern them. Gustav did not panic. He was never a man of weak nerve and was unflappable. His headmasters back at school would grow purple in anger trying to break his will to their own, only to find themselves exhausted and many wooden rulers in splinters at their feet. “Foolish priests!” He chuckled as his escorts pushed him onward.
Up stone steps they pushed on, he felt the cold, damp stone beneath his booted feet. He heard a mighty wooden door open and then close loudly behind them. Five minutes passed as they ushered him through hallways and finally down a long flight of steps downward.
            “Ah to into the depths of hell I descend!”  Laughing aloud at his sarcastic humor which draped him like spiritual armor.
The group of men stops, as one knocks on a heavy metal door, waiting for entrance.
A few words are uttered through the rusting door and it creeks open with a deafening sound that makes the hooded man cringe like nails on a chalkboard. They shove Gustav through the rusty portal and he does all he can to maintain his balance as his escorts heave him forward.
             “Remove the hood, let the man breathe.” A deep but calming voice echoed as the cotton hood was removed from the captive man’s sweat covered head.
“Please forgive our rather necessary precautions Mr. Moltke, but as you well know, what we do requires the ultimate in secrecy.” The calming voice echoed again through the stone chamber.
           “Air, fresh air!”  Gustav thought to himself, grateful to be able to breath freely again. He squints to see his host, but his eyes are meet with bright fluorescent light. He brings his hands up to shade them. “I completely understand, I too, work in a rather “sensitive” fashion and it is to be expected.” He responds as he lets his eyes adjust to the newfound light.
             “Let me cut to the chase Mr. Moltke. We understand that you have the item? The well groomed man, dressed all in white robes and a long flowing graying beard speaks, very fluent English. Smiling and stepping forward, out of the shadow of the room, he continues:
        “We are prepared to pay handsomely sir!” The six foot six tall Arab states matter-of-factly. Smiling as he approaches his visitor.
       “Yes, I do have the item.”  Gustav replies as he gathers the case closer to his chest, as if a mother cradling her newborn babe to her bosom.
Gustav in meticulous fashion took inventory of the room; over 30 well-armed men littered the room. Only one exit, he had to play this just right and hope that his master will provide for him and to not have lured him into a trap that would end his life.
              “Ten million Deutsche marks was the agreement”. Gustav utters respectfully although biting his tongue, trying hard to hide his hatred for these lesser beings.
        “Ah yes Mr. Moltke, ten million it is.” The tall robed figure bows his head in acceptance and motions to a man still within the safety of the shadows. A short pudgy figure, carrying a large brown duffle bag steps forth and hands the bag to his leader and then steps back into the shadows.
             “Here is your money good sir, please place your case on the floor for inspection and we can complete the exchange.” The leader says with utter confidence as he places the bag full of cash on the floor in front of his new business partner. Gustav, smiling, sets his case down, with one booted push, shoves the black case forward. Smiling, realizing what has just happened, he recites a silent prayer to his guiding force then He hurriedly grabs the bag of cash not caring about it’s contents.
         “We sincerely do appreciate all your hard work to create such a powerful weapon Mr. Moltke! I am sure you understand that we must secure what we are doing here and ask you kindly to please once again place the hood upon your head and then we can complete our transaction” the tall man commandingly orders, smiling all the while.
           Gustav complies, arrogantly smirking as he places the heavily odor filled hood over his head. “So let it be written, so let it be done!” he says in a hush as he is escorted out of the secret anti-chamber back up to his awaiting BMW… It does not matter what vehicle he now travels in, because he has fulfilled his duty to his Master and soon he will sit at the right hand of the demon and the rest of the world will pay the price for their arrogant insolence.


       “Fitting end!” Gustav laughed to himself as he is shoved into the BMW and spits on the once holy ground of the west bank, realizing that it will soon never be holy again!

 

Reviews

[Janelle Walden]

again, i start with, sorry it took so long to read this, as i've hardly been on the site at all this year...but finally, made it to the next read request of many...& other than a few easily fixable things, like you making a change in tense 1/2way thru & then a sentence or 2 that might be rearranged just for the sake of flow...the chapter started out making me wonder what genre it really was, but when the 'demon' is mentioned towards the end, it definitely works well as a hook to get the reader interested in continuing, & i must say that you seem to know your subject, as well as seeming to have a clear view of where you do intend to go with the story, so in other words, good job!

[Brenda Sue]

Very well written. A very good story. Wonderfully penned. Great job.