Chpt. 20 - Don't Shoot the Messenger by Daniel Grant Newton (SEASON FINALE)

For the previous chapters of Daniel Grant Newton's online book Don't Shoot the Messenger, click below:

Chapter 1      Chapter 2      Chapter 3      Chapter 4      Chapter 5      Chapter 6      Chapter 7      Chapter 8      Chapter 9      Chapter 10     Chapter 11      Chapter 12      Chapter 13      Chapter 14     Chapter 15     Chapter 16     Chapter 17     Chapter 18     Chapter 19

Irene and Jude took their hands off the ancient chest and peered into the darkness.

“This is different,” whispered Jude, cocking his gun.  “When is this?”

“Well, I guess we are with the box just before Alexander bought it,” Irene replied.  “That was our intention.”

The lights overhead blinked on, temporarily blinding them. 

When their eyes adjusted to the brightness, the two time travellers were face to face with a room full of soldiers in black jumpsuits, with the Nordic Mjollnir (Thor’s Hammer) symbol emblazoned on the front of their uniforms.

The soldiers held futuristic-looking rifles at Irene and Jude that hummed and contained glowing cartridges. 

Someone approached the two visitors.

It was Alexander, dressed in a long black gown and gloves.  He wore a silver pendant of the same symbol as that on the soldier’s jumpsuits.

“Just on time,” he said, greeting Jude and Irene.  “Beauty and the beast are here as I said they would.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Welcome to the year 2043.  I thought I’d bring you both back here to show you what you helped create.”

“What’s going on Alexander?” said Irene, after exchanging a glance with Jude.

“You all played your parts perfectly,” he scoffed.  “Naturally, having to read the probability hologram by myself meant I was never quite sure which outcome was most probable, but this one was a good one.  I did think at one stage having a scientist help me read it could be useful, but I couldn’t risk them getting all ethical on me, now could I?  Just as no one, including Spider, could be witness to my entire master plan.”  He beamed.  “Doesn’t matter, anyway.  I had a plan for every possibility.”

“Jesus didn’t die,” Jude muttered.  “So your plan failed.”

“You are part right, my friend,” Alexander nodded.  “Jesus didn’t die.  But the Roman Empire did, and so did Christianity.  Well, there are a few pockets of those who follow the teachings of Christ, but I am gradually quietening those rabble makers.  Killing them for the good of the whole.  I am still considering on going back to kill the pest you guys failed to kill, but as it is, Christians are a minority that hide in the alleys like cockroaches.”

“I don’t understand,” said Irene, shaking her head.  “You destroyed the Roman Empire and wiped the Christian Church from history?”

“Correct.  It was all part of my master plan, as aforementioned.  The team was delivered a number of bombs through the chest the day you both split from the rest of the group.  One was meant to blow Irene and the temple up, but the rest were nuclear weapons given to a nasty resistance group.  I believe you met their leader, young lady.

“Anyway, this group was shown how to detonate the bombs in the letter Spider gave their leader, and they were also given the artillery to get them into the heart of Rome, supposedly in exchange for your capture.  Without Rome, Christianity as you both knew it could not spread.  The note also requested they kill the two of you and any of the team you didn't manage to kill.  I do hate loose ends.  But in the end the only one they killed was Kofi, because you do what you do so well, Jude.”

Jude and Irene stood in silence.

“Your majesty,” said one of the soldiers, bowing his head to Alexander, “shall we lock these time outlaws away?”

Alexander nodded and the soldiers stamped their feet signalling that they accepted the order.  Irene and Jude were grabbed from behind by a number of soldiers.

“Your majesty?” Jude exclaimed, squirming his muscular body out of the hold of the four soldiers around him.  “What does he mean by that?”

Alexander moved right up into Jude’s face.  “Do you really think I got to where I got by being nice, Mr. Stone?  By helping people?  The three missions I sent you on were all designed to give me the opportunity to inherit my kingdom.  And get back what fate had stolen from me – the Mjollnir Kingdom.” 

He turned to the men holding Irene and Jude.  “Lock them up.  Tomorrow morning we will give them a public execution to honour the Great Odin.  I want the message to be loud and clear: No man shall pass through time without my command.”

To be continued...

Season 2 coming in 2013...

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And do not forget to tune in on Monday for the first part of The Last King of Shambhala.

Don't Shoot the Messenger Official Blog Trailer

Hey Shambhala Hero!

As promised, here is the trailer (with Anabel) for my blog readers.  I have held off from posting this, but now, in celebration of Don't Shoot the Messenger Season One coming to an end next week, I thought it would be the perfect time to share it with you.

And don't be mistaken, this one I am posting here just for YOU - my blog readers - no one else.  So if anyone goes to the Don't Shoot the Messenger website - it won't be there.

Enjoy!

Daniel

Chpt. 17 - Don't Shoot the Messenger by Daniel Grant Newton

For the previous chapters of Daniel Grant Newton's online book Don't Shoot the Messenger, click below:

Chapter 1      Chapter 2      Chapter 3      Chapter 4      Chapter 5      Chapter 6      Chapter 7      Chapter 8      Chapter 9      Chapter 10     Chapter 11      Chapter 12      Chapter 13      Chapter 14   
Chapter 15      Chapter 16

Jude carefully weaved through the crowd gathering in the square, analysing each sweaty robe for concealed weapons.  His eyes searched the surrounding building tops for snipers.

“Yēšûă is about to go up there,” he muttered, staring at the blazing sun.  “Where the hell are they?”

A boy in a white cloak smiled at Jude, revealing a set of buckteeth, and put his open hand on the soldier's abdomen.

Then with the other hand, the boy placed a note in Jude's hand, and skipped down a backstreet. 

The note simply read:

The message of love, or the one you make love with?  You have five minutes.

“Damn,” muttered Jude.  “Spider's got Irene.”

Jude raced through the streets, shoving people and objects out of his way.

“Irene,” he screamed, pulling doors open up and down the narrow streets.  “Irene.”

“Damn, damn, damn.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “Where would Spider...”

Jude’s eyes stopped upon the monolithic dome towering above the buildings of mud and stone.  “The temple.”

He sprinted towards the structure, skipping through the crowd shuffling towards the location for Yēšûă's speech, and the aimlessly wandering cows and goats.

Jude galloped up the stairs of the temple and through the arched doorways.

Inside were pews, extravagant religious items, and limestone walls that stretched to the dome above.  But no sign of Irene.

The soldier scanned the walls for an imperfection in what was very precise craftsmanship.

He then bounded over a pew, and then another, and dashed to the front of the temple.  He stopped before the back wall and traced his hand over a loose stone.

Digging his fingers in he was able to pull it out and reveal a set of stairs that led down into a dark chamber.

“Irene,” called Jude down the hole.

“Jude,” came a faint, groggy voice.  “Is that you?”

“Wait there, Irene,” called Jude, shifting the rest of the blocks to get down to her, before bounding down the stairs to her side.

Irene’s body was limp.  She was not even being able to lift her head to look at him, but she did manage a small smile.

“You've been poisoned,” he stammered, loosening the rope tied around her.  “You'll be okay, Irene.  I have something in my backpack that can counteract it.  We only bring one type of poison on any given mission, the same tasteless, odourless, untraceable poison, and I’m the one charged with keeping the antidote.  I’ll get you to my pack as soon as possible.  It’s only a few blocks away.”  He repeated, perhaps more for his sake than hers:  “You’ll be okay, Irene.  You’ll be okay.”

He froze.

“What's wrong?” she croaked.  “Is Yēšûă safe?”

Jude was very still.  He gradually lifted himself up off his haunches.

“What's wrong?”  Irene became still and her eyes widened.

“The rope is attached to a bomb.  Any great force could cause the bomb to detonate early.”

“Early?” gasped Irene.

Jude followed the rope to a large cylinder with a timer on it.  The numbers raced down.

“We have two minutes to get out of here,” Jude whispered.  “Don't move.”

“Can you cut the red wire or something?”

“This device is much too complex for me to even guess how to disarm it.”  He paused, and circled her seat with his eyes transfixed on the explosive device under it.  “Every bomb expert has a signature, and I recognise this signature.  It was built by a man named Andriy Vashchuk, one of the world's best bomb engineers.  His bombs have about four different security 'layers' you need to crack before you can even get to the bomb itself.  If you get one wrong, the bomb will explode.”

“How did they even get the bomb here?” Irene asked, her eyes darting about the room.  “You know what, I don’t care how they got it here.  What on Earth are we going to do?”

“They must've brought it in pieces.  But unless Alexander sent reinforcements I didn't even know he had access to, I cannot see how they could have assembled it so perfectly.”  Jude glanced at Irene.  “Irene, I've undone your knot as far as I can without triggering the bomb.  Do you think you could really carefully slip your hands out without pulling at the rope?”

“I'll try,” Irene swallowed.  “How long do we have?”

“18 seconds.”

The two were silent, their eyes fixated on each other, as Irene gently tried to wiggle her hands out of the knot behind her back.

As soon as her hands were free Jude tried to pull her to feet, but she collapsed at his feet.

Without saying a word, Jude heaved Irene up into his arms and raced up the stairs, through the hole and to the entry way.

The illuminated digits of the bomb counter fell: 0.03, 0.02, 0.01, 0.00.

Boom!!!

Fire balls leapt through the temple, obliterating the walls and roof into a cloud of debris that covered the village.

Jude lifted his head as a shower of soot rained down upon Irene and him.

“Jesus,” mumbled Irene, her consciousness flickering in and out.

“I know,” Jude coughed, “that was bloody close.”

“No,” breathed Irene, shaking her head.  “Jesus.  You must save Jesus.”

“You need to be treated,” he said, grabbing her sooty forearm to pull her up.

“No,” she said, “I’ll hold on.  Save Jesus.”

“Alright, but I’ll get the antidote on the way.”

Click here for Chapter 18...

A close escape!  But could this be Jesus' last supper?  Will Irene hold on?  Can Jude outwit a team of elite soldiers?  Keep repeating your prayers and keep your fingers crossed.