Reginald Cook - The Hammer of God

“It’s time to go back inside,” one of the priests bellowed.

“But she said I could have an hour,” pleaded Samuel.

So, he’s out for an hour at a time. Good information.

“Okay, but we’re going back inside in ten minutes,” the priest added, impatiently.

Samuel said thank you and continued to walk the courtyard. Robert removed a small penlight from his jacket, and waited for an opening to signal Samuel.

“Time’s up,” the priest said, exactly ten minutes later. “Let’s head back.”

For a second, the two guards looked toward the car. Robert thought he saw Samuel look in his direction, so he flashed the light on and off one time. But as he did, Samuel looked away, and a sinking feeling hit Robert’s gut. He missed, but at least he knew his godson was okay, and where he was being held.

“I’ll be back, Samuel,” he whispered. “Sit tight.” The two priests got back inside the car, one in the backseat, one behind the wheel, and drove back to the castle.

Robert eyed the two gunmen, who were headed in his direction. He eased back, chest pressed against the ground, listening closely as the guards’ footsteps crunched gravel and dirt, inching closer to his hiding place. The wind kicked up hard and the fog grew even heavier, giving Robert the advantage. He continued to back up, head low, until he reached the end of the brush, stopping just above a small cliff of jagged rocks, a few feet from the sea. The two guards flipped on their flashlights.

“We’ll check the area, then head inside for the night,” said one guard.

“Fine with me, it’s cold as hell out here. Besides, I could use a glass of wine and some food.”

Good, they didn’t see me. Robert held his position. The guards panned their lights back and forth, circling around on each side of him.

They pointed the beams in his direction, but Robert knew the fog would reflect the light, making it difficult for them to see him from a distance.

The guards moved halfway through the brush. Robert crawled forward and passed between them, ten feet on each side. The guards examined the rocks and reef, then headed back toward the courtyard.

Robert stayed low, motionless. He caught a whiff of tobacco as one of the guards lit up.

“Let’s eat,” said one of the guards. “Sister Bravo said the place is fully stocked. We’ll check the grounds again at daybreak.” The guards reached the courtyard and made a beeline for the small two-story house, their flashlight beams bouncing along in front of them like fireflies. Robert rose to a low crouch and made good time back to Thorne and Sister Isabella, as the guards disappeared inside the house.

“That was mighty close, big boy,” said Thorne. “We thought they had you. Thank goodness for the fog. What was the flash of light all about?”

Robert took a deep breath, as though he’d been holding it in for the past hour. “Did you see him?” he finally asked.

“See who?” asked Sister Isabella.

“Samuel.”

Both women froze.

“I saw him,” Robert continued, still breathing hard. “He’s inside.” Thorne smiled.

Sister Isabella said a brief prayer. “Let’s get back to the house,” she said when she finished. “We’ll need a plan before we go in.” Robert and Thorne agreed. The three of them stood and walked along the dirt road toward their car, which was covered with brush and tree limbs two miles away. They stayed just inside the wooded area out of sight, Sister Isabella and Thorne five feet ahead, Robert lagging behind, watching the castle get smaller. Robert stopped abruptly and called out to Thorne and Sister Isabella, who spun around.

The three of them stared in wonder as a ball of flames streaked from the backside of the castle, and disappeared into the lake.

T o his surprise, Samuel, asleep on his cot, was shaken awake by Sister Bravo late in the evening, after a dinner of garlic drenched pasta, hard rolls, lemon ice cream and more soda, 7 Up this time.

“One hour outside,” she said plainly, tossing him a navy blue windbreaker.

Samuel didn’t debate. Tired of confinement in the tower bedroom, the chance to walk around in the open lifted his spirits. He slipped on the jacket, a genuine smile on his face, and grabbed the nun’s hand. She stared down at him, her eyes warning, no foolishness.

The hallway outside the bedroom was much darker than the bedroom, and Samuel gripped Sister Bravo’s hand tighter as she lead the way down a circular stone stairway. At the bottom, his eyes easily adjusted to the increase in light. It seemed that the entire castle was lit with either candles or very low watt bulbs, adding to the building’s dreary medieval atmosphere.

Careful not to be obvious, Samuel kept his head forward as Sister Bravo marched him through a large, windowless, sparsely furnished room with blank walls and a stone floor. The room was warm, much warmer than his, aided by the large fire he saw blazing in the fireplace.

Off to the right, he caught a glimpse of what he guessed to be the kitchen, which looked more modern than the rest of what he’d seen. The ceiling was high, with thick dark wooden beams holding it in place.

Samuel wondered where Sister Bravo and the two priests slept, but dared not turn his head and give himself away. I’ll see more on my way back.

They reached a gigantic wooden door. Sister Bravo leaned her shoulder into it and pushed. Outside, the answer to Samuel’s next question stood smoking cigarettes. Fathers Clancy and Murphy stamped out their smokes. The sun was nowhere in sight, and a light mist made the area around the castle look hazy and bleak. The wind cut through Samuel’s windbreaker, but he ignored it. He didn’t care. Each breath of air, however, tinged with algae and dead fish, soothed his spirit in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Samuel’s head swiveled back and forth between four men he didn’t recognize. They stared at him with hateful eyes, and each cradled a machine gun.

Sister Bravo smiled. “As you can see, we’ve taken extra precautions to keep you with us. I’ll introduce you later, but for now know that they’ve been given permission to shoot you if you try to run.” Samuel swallowed. “I promise I won’t run again,” he said. “Thank you for letting me outside.” He forced a smile.

“Come with us,” said Father Clancy, taking his hand.

Two of the guards said something in Italian and followed them to a dark green car. Father Murphy put Samuel in the backseat and got in next to him. The two armed guards sat in the front seat. Sister Bravo watched as they backed out, turned around, and drove across a big yard, stopping near some tall grass and brush.

“We’ll let you out here,” Father Clancy told him. “Remember, the guards will be watching.”

All of them exited the vehicle. It was almost completely dark outside, and the fog, which seemed to thicken by the minute, hampered Samuel’s ability to examine the surrounding area. If it were not for the car headlights Father Murphy turned on, he wouldn’t have be able to see much at all. Undaunted, head down, hands in his pockets, he made mental notes of as much of the scenery as he could without drawing attention. Samuel paced back and forth in front of the men, aware of the penetrating eyes and trigger fingers monitoring his every step.

The two priests lit up more cigarettes and stayed near the car, while the gun toting duo followed him a few feet from the thick garden of grass that looked like something out of a headless horsemen story. Samuel looked up across the opposite side of the yard. He couldn’t see the horizon, but knew from his tower bedroom view that the other side was a blanket of water. He noted a small house about half a football field from the castle, and beyond that, what looked like a wooded area. He looked up at one of the gunmen and smiled. The guard answered with a deep frown and grimace.