The Samson Effect Chapter 7

Navigation:
Chapter 1
Table Of Contents


THE TRUCK RUMBLED through the city and out to the southern outlying area of Hebron. Thomas stole glances through the window and door-mounted mirror for any signs of Umar's men. Either they were good at subterfuge, or they weren't skilled at trailing. He couldn't decide if he should worry more about Umar's men or the men who attacked them this morning.

Delia followed Michael's instructions to a rocky, desert location and parked the truck at the base of the tallest hill. "This is where we start."

They got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the truck. Michael opened the door and removed the backpacks tethered to the side railing.

Thomas flung his over his shoulder as he shut the door. "I must say the ride in the cab was much more comfortable than the ride back here."

Delia slung her pack over her shoulders. "I'm sure it was. As long as you don't give me a reason, you'll not have to ride back there again."

Thomas stepped away without acknowledging her statement. He knew the "can't we all just get along" chorus was an act. As soon as he could get Michael alone, he would find out what's going on. Michael's peculiar behavior toward her was beyond what was needed to help keep Hanna safe. As for himself, Thomas refused to be a lamb led to the slaughter, and he would do everything in his power to keep Michael from being one too.

He watched Michael help Delia on with her backpack. They smiled warmly at each other. Michael stood behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch, nor did her smile disappear. With his other hand, he pointed out their route up the hill.

Thomas tightened the straps on his backpack, his eyes following Michael's finger. "Why did you choose this place to start?"

Michael dropped his pointing hand, but his other remained on Delia's shoulder. "Old Hebron was south of the modern city. Figured we'd start at ground zero to look for the serpent landscape." He nodded to the hill. "We'll have a nice panoramic view from up there."

Thomas removed his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. "You'd have to pick the hottest day to go rock climbing, wouldn't you? Delia, I'm almost sorry I didn't wear that Palestinian man-dress you wanted me to wear." He took out his canteen and swallowed a couple of gulps of water.

"Careful," Delia said. "You'll want that water a lot more this afternoon than you do now."

Thomas looked up the hillside. A few hundred feet could hardly be called a mountain, he thought. He stepped up on his tiptoes to stretch out his calf muscles. His months of tennis and indoor rock climbing had kept his body in top shape. This would be a piece of cake. If he couldn't play Michael in a game of tennis, then he'd grab a victory from him by beating him to the summit. He waited for Michael to take the first step up the hill. When Thomas beat him to the top, he didn't want Michael hastily dismissing his victory. After Michael was five feet up, Thomas set out for the summit.

He caught up with Michael's leisurely pace and set the competition in motion with a single phrase. "Either move it or get out of the way."

Michael looked over his shoulder and smiled. "I'll have the water waiting for you at the top." His leisurely pace morphed from casual strides to the scurrying of a four-legged spider.

Thomas kicked up his pace but quickly realized that real rocks didn't always provide the grip that the rock walls he had climbed at home provided. He stretched his fingers to a small cleft at Michael's feet and hit pay dirt. His biceps bulged as sheer strength propelled him up until he and Michael climbed side by side. Neither slowed their pace as they approached the summit.

"Good. You've caught up with me. Now it's a fair race."

Sweat rolled down Thomas's forehead as he began to overtake Michael. "Looks like the years have slowed you down."

"I'm just getting warmed up."

Somehow, Michael found a way to accelerate his ascent. A hairline crack emerged in Thomas's smug confidence. The closer they came to the summit, the steeper the hill grew; but it seemed the climb was becoming easier for Michael.

Thomas pushed his aching muscles to move him faster. His fingertips grew raw as he willed them into the solid rock surface. But nothing he said or did to motivate himself stopped Michael from slowly pulling away from him.

To make matters worse, Delia approached on his left. A faint sheen upon her skin glistened in the sun as she apparently decided she could hang with the boys. When she started to pull away from him, Thomas strangled the tiny crevices in his hands and ground his teeth in utter contempt for yet another loss to Michael.

With one last burst of energy, Thomas surged past Delia and pulled himself upon the flat summit. He collapsed on the ground and heaved gulps of air into his lungs. Delia crawled next to him and oozed onto the ground with rubbery arms. As his breath returned, Thomas heard the sound of shoes scuffing on the surface and coming to a stop next to his head. Michael bent down with his promised canteen. "Sorry, couldn't find a glass."

Thomas pulled himself up and took a swig from his own canteen. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and asked, "How can you not be winded?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess it's because the years haven't slowed me down too much."

Thomas didn't understand. He and Michael were both in shape, but Michael never let his body keep him from doing what he set his mind to do. Thomas did, however, find a sliver of hope when he spotted a vein in Michael's neck throbbing in step with his own racing heart.

When they caught their breath, they began scanning the landscape with their binoculars. After forty-five minutes, they settled on three locations that by some wild stretch of the imagination could possibly be their snake-caves. Michael sketched the missing snake features on the landscape into a notebook, resulting in three snakelike images.

Delia studied Michael's artwork and wrinkled her brow. "I don't know; the pictures just don't look like the landscapes. I see it on paper, but not out there."

"I agree you'll have to use some imagination. But remember, the terrain may have changed in three thousand years, or the scribe may have done what early astrologers and sailors had done with the constellations—take a few points to build an elaborate picture."

"You're assuming," Thomas said, "the scribe's 'snake' was a rock or cave. For all we know, it could've been a symbolic reference known only to a select group of scribes. I mean, it could be a statue in Jordan, for all we know."

"True, but we only have two weeks to find it. The way I see it, we have to take an educated guess and focus there. Unless …" Michael turned to Delia. "Azim could be persuaded to extend our search."

Delia shook her head. "When the time comes, I'll try to secure more time for us, but unless we've made considerable concrete progress, I know what his answer will be. His unyielding demand for obedience in the face of all obstacles is what ensures unquestioning loyalty from everyone who answers to him."

Thomas took another swig from his canteen. "That settles it, then. Let's drive to Snake Cave Number One and see what we find."

* * * *

The rabbi explained to Judas the secret of the Lord's Strength given to man, dating as far back as the day when Moses first received it.

"Moses entrusted its protection to his nephew, Nadab, a priest," the rabbi explained. "However, he and his brother, Abihu were struck down by the Lord for offering strange fire to him. Since the priesthood was new to Israel, Moses and Aaron feared the Lord would continue to show his displeasure against the priests whenever they failed to obey him fully in their sanctified role.

"So they chose an honest, humble man from the tribe of Gad. He became the protector of the Lord's Strength, and he established the code we follow to this day."

Judas listened, spellbound by the rabbi's words. So many questions were struggling to burst from his lips, but he held them in check until an appropriate time. The rabbi lifted himself from the chair and grabbed his cane. "Come with me."

Judas accompanied the old rabbi at a snail's pace, which gave his teacher ample time to explain where they were going.

"Sometime after Solomon's reign, the protector chosen was a man of great wealth and influence in Judah. He was also a man of pure heart and devoted to his calling. He built a modest dwelling in Hebron to serve as home for the Lord's Strength. That dwelling is its home to this day."

The rabbi led Judas down the hall and into his bedroom. Judas marveled at how little a man of the rabbi's age had collected in his life. The house itself was simple, but the bedroom was nearly barren. An opened closet contained clothes on only five hangers. The bedroom had only three pieces of furniture. A simple, small, square table and a stool sat on one wall. A cup of Bic pens and a writing tablet sat on the table. A king-size bed, which seemed so out of place in this humble little home, sat in the center of the room.

The rabbi shuffled into the room and slowly eased onto the stool. "This, Judas, is the dwelling place the protector built. Through Christian crusades and Muslim occupations, the Lord has seen fit to keep this small home in the hands of the Jewish protectors. That, my student, is one of the greatest miracles indeed."

"Rabbi, I don't understand. How could this home have survived all the centuries of warfare and bloodshed? And, forgive me, but this home was built in the twentieth century."

"Judas, Judas, it's not the walls of this house that has survived. I have no idea how many times they've been destroyed and rebuilt. No, the true dwelling place is there." He lifted his cane and pointed at the bed.

Judas stared at the bed and looked tentatively back to the old man. "Rabbi?"

The old man smiled. "Slide it against the window and tell me what you see."

Judas obeyed, straining every muscle to slide the mammoth bed inch by inch. When he finished, he stood next to the bed, examining the bare area it had covered. "I don't see anything."

"Ah, now take my cane and go into the closet."

Judas obediently followed the rabbi's instructions.

"Now, remove the rug and look for a chip in the floor. Place the cane in the hole and turn it until it locks into place."

Judas inserted the cane and turned it until it felt snug. "Now rotate the cane clockwise until it stops."

He turned the cane with relative ease. In the bedroom, where the bed had been, he heard a grinding sound and saw a thin rectangular crack emerge as part of the stone floor began to sink away. His heart beat faster as a hole in the floor appeared.

"The seam has remained invisible all these centuries because each protector makes only two trips down in their lives; once when they're anointed and once when they show it to the next anointed."

For the first time since he had known the rabbi, Judas saw in his eyes an almost childlike giddiness. After a few minutes, the rectangular stone had submerged and slid out of the way. The cane found resistance and stopped turning. Judas removed it and went to the rabbi.

The rabbi took the cane and pointed it at him. "The iron foot on the cane—that's the key. Place it on any rod you wish. Now, help me up."

Judas helped him to his feet and the two walked over to the hole. Steps led down into the blackness. The rabbi reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter, and handed it to Judas. "Go down and light the lamp on the wall to the right and then come back and help me down."

"Rabbi, the steps are narrow. It might not be safe for you to go down."

"The last time I made the trip down was over forty years ago. I've dreamed of this day since. Try to stop me."

"Okay, okay." Judas smiled. He took the lighter and descended fifteen steps before reaching the bottom. He found the lamp and lit it, revealing a room about fifteen feet square. A golden altar sat against the back wall. Two small, gold tables stood on both sides of the altar. The back two tables were about three feet tall while the two tables in front stood about two feet tall. Golden candlesticks, each with twelve unburned candles, sat on the tables. Imbedded in the walls sparkled every type of precious stone imaginable. Judas stared at everything, lost in the room's beauty.

The rabbi's feeble yet determined voice snapped him from his trance.

"Rabbi, it's beautiful."

"I know it is. Now come back for me right now or my blood will be on your hands when I try to come down myself."

"Yes, Rabbi." Judas helped his teacher down, and soon both men stood transfixed. When Judas turned to the rabbi, he saw tears streaming down his teacher's cheeks.

The rabbi grabbed Judas's arm and slid to his knees, bowing his head before the altar. Judas followed his example and knelt next to the rabbi, who began a prayer of praise and thanksgiving, followed by a petition to be with and to guard the new protector.

When the prayer ended, Judas felt tears in his own eyes. He straightened his back and drew in a deep breath. "Rabbi, thank you for bringing me here. I'll keep this secret until the day I die. I swear it."

The rabbi patted him on the back. "Judas, dear Judas. I've watched you grow from a child to a man. I was sure you'd protect the secret even before I asked, as you must be when you choose your successor. But this," the rabbi said with a wave of his arm, "this is not the true treasure. Are you ready to see the true treasure, the Lord's Strength; the strength of Moses, of David, of Israel's ancient judges, of Samson?"

"Yes, rabbi."

"I'm sure you are." He handed Judas the cane. "Put the key into the hole in the center of the altar, but don't turn it yet."

Judas did so and awaited further instructions.

"You must never forget the following sequence. If you do, it is said the key will be crushed within the altar and you'll be the first protector in history to lose the precious strength of the Lord."

Beads of perspiration ran down Judas's forehead. He never trusted his memory for important things; however, he cleared his head and waited for the sequence.

"Face the altar and turn the back left candlestick a quarter turn clockwise. Turn the front left a quarter turn counterclockwise."

Judas did so and felt gears within the tables clicking as they turned.

"Now, the right side. Rotate the back candlestick three-quarters turn clockwise and the front one a half turn clockwise."

When he finished, he wiped the sweat from his palm onto his thigh and chanted the sequence silently in his head. The rabbi interrupted his chant, setting off panic alarms in his mind.

"Ready?"

He wiped his hands dry again, deciding to wait until he went back up the stairs to get the sequence from the rabbi again. He nodded.

"Good. Now turn the key clockwise."

He wiped his hands dry one last time and started to turn the cane. A section of the wall behind the altar began to recess. Euphoria swept through his body when he did not feel the key crush within the altar.

When the recessed section of the wall was back far enough for him to slip by, the rabbi stopped him. Judas flicked the lighter, slipped into the room, and found an oil lamp sitting on a chiseled square stone about chest high. The room was only eight by eight with no jewels or gold. It was a plain rock room, roughly hewn. Judas saw a laboratory beaker on the center of the rock cube. The rabbi slipped in behind him and pointed to the beaker.

"There it is, the Lord's Strength."

"The beaker? How old is this secret?"

The rabbi laughed. "The containers have changed over the centuries, but the content has remained preserved since the days of King Solomon." He walked over, picked up the beaker, and handed it to Judas.

Judas looked inside and saw a finely chopped substance that looked like burgundy oregano. The rabbi took back the beaker and removed the cork. He measured out a third of the substance on a sheet of paper and replaced the cork. He then removed a flask from his jacket pocket and set it on the stone.

"Judas, my hands aren't as steady as they once were. Would you mind pouring this into the flask?"

Judas rolled the paper and funneled the substance into the flask. Following the rabbi's instructions, he replaced the cap and shook the flask.

The rabbi let out a sigh. "It takes one ounce. There are only two ounces left—enough for two more men. If no one finds the lost seeds, the Lord's Strength will be lost to mankind forever." He paused for a moment and stared at the beaker. Judas waited for him silently, patiently. The rabbi finally turned to him, tears back in his eyes. "I pray your search will find more success than mine." He looked at the flask. "I was told if it was freshly cut, the result would be even more amazing and longer lasting." The rabbi still stared at the flask, licking his lips. He finally turned to Judas with a sigh. "Drink, my friend."

Judas didn't move. He trusted the rabbi explicitly, or so he thought. What kind of drug was this? What was going to happen to him? He swirled the flask and looked at the rabbi. "Perhaps we could take it upstairs and—"

"Drink it now, boy, or I swear I'll rip it from you and drink it myself!"

The rabbi's voice reverberated in the tiny underground room and almost caused Judas to drop the flask. The old man's eyes nearly popped from his head. Every vein in his neck and forehead burst to the surface, throbbing with every beat of his heart. For the first time in his life, Judas was sure he was experiencing a demon possession.

Then, as abruptly as the rabbi's outburst came upon him, he returned to his gentle self. "Forgive me Judas. My heart is broken knowing I'll never again experience what you're about to experience." He looked through Judas, his mind lost somewhere in the memories of the past. "Please, drink it."


Read The Samson Effect in BookBuzzr format now. I will unlock a new chapter each week as I post new chapters to the Samson Effect serial release blog.



To Purchase The Samson Effect

Paperback: The Samson Effect
Hardcover: The Samson Effect